Brothers in Blood
by SUPRNTRAL LVR
Summary: Season 3 - Sam made one last, final snatch for his knife but Gordon grabbed his wrist and rammed it into the ground. He looked up at the hunter crouching over him, the dark, merciless eyes... Contains torture, limp! and angst! and violence.
1. Torture

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural... I just wish I did!**

**Bit of a random idea, but it won't go away which means I have no choice but to put it up and see what people think. I'm not exactly sure where this story will be going, but I suppose we'll find out. :) I should warn you that the violence and torture starts right now, so if you don't like that kind of thing I suggest you don't read this story! Set somewhere in season 3, obviously before Gordon dies.**

Hell on Earth took its form in a damp, dank basement. Flickering lights sent demonic shadows dancing over the walls, and the very air seemed to drip with fear and despair. Water ran down the walls from a leak somewhere higher up in the building. The smell of blood and sweat hung over everything like a curse.

In short, it was the last place anyone wanted to be.

Amy rose from her position in the corner and stepped forwards as the door at the top of the stone steps swung open and Gordon Walker appeared, a plastic carrier bag swinging from one hand. He made his way down the steps, taking his time, the flickering light dancing off his dark sunglasses. As he reached the bottom he offered Amy a small nod of acknowledgement before sweeping his eyes around the basement. It was large and square, with a work surface spreading along one wall complete with an assortment of weapons. A device remarkably like a dentist's chair stood in the centre of the room, a small table standing beside it and a large light above. The chair was currently occupied by a young, bloodstained vampire who was staring blindly at the ceiling.

"Wasn't expecting you back so soon," Amy murmured as Gordon moved over to the work surface and pulled open a drawer. "I thought you were going to call the Winchesters again..."

Her voice trailed off as she watched Gordon pull out a syringe and place it on the counter before retrieving a vial from his bag.

"I was," Gordon said softly. "But why should we give up so quickly?" He shot her a grin. "All systems go."

"Is that...?"

"Dead man's blood," Gordon confirmed. "I added a little silver nitrate, just to be sure."

Amy frowned. Gordon filled the syringe and placed the vial safely in his pocket before taking a silver knife and turning around. He walked leisurely forwards, dropping the syringe onto the small table as he spoke.

"Morning, Opium. Sleep well?"

The vampire flinched and looked up, his eyes focussing wearily on Gordon. His chest heaved in a defeated sigh and he turned his face away.

"That well, hmm?" Gordon flicked the knife between his fingers. Thoughtfully, he lowered the knife and carved a long, deep wound over Opium's arm. The vampire snarled low in his throat, but didn't respond. "Just so you know," Gordon said. "I'm getting impatient. And I just lifted all restrictions."

He crouched down so as to be on Opium's level. Sweat and dried blood covered the vampire's face and his eyes were glassy and dull. Gordon flicked his cheek, and he blinked.

"Now, I'm going to give you one last chance," he said. "If you tell me what I want to know, I will release you. Where is your vampire colony?"

Silence.

"How many of you are there?"

Silence.

"Fine. Then where are the Winchester brothers?"

Silence.

Gordon sighed and rose to his feet. "Very well," he said, his voice falsely resigned. "I try and I try, and yet you refuse to be civil."

He flipped the knife over in his hand and brought it down in the centre of Opium's chest. The vampire hissed and trembled as Gordon deftly cut a pentagram into his torso, adding the symbols within in seconds. He pulled out the vial in his pocket and held it in front of Opium's face.

"You know what this is?"

Opium's pupils shrank in fear, but he said nothing. Gordon smiled.

"Well, then. You shouldn't be surprised."

He tilted the vial and let a few drops spatter over the bloody pentagram. Opium let out a yelp, like a wounded animal, and cringed back in the chair. He strained against the manacles binding him to the metal chair, his whole body bucking and shaking. Gordon paused, allowing him to fall back in the chair.

"Feel like talking?"

Opium bared his pointed teeth, his answer clear. Gordon's eyes narrowed and he tilted the vial again, allowing the solution to slop carelessly out onto the vampire.

Opium screamed.

The chair rattled beneath him as he struggled wildly, his body jerking and shuddering in agony. His skin seemed to shrink on him, black veins standing out like spider webs across his body. His screams filled the room and echoed out into the house above.

Amy's hand closed over Gordon's wrist and pulled him back sharply. Gordon looked up at her, frowning. Amy was pale and trembling, her eyes wide as Opium's screams died in his throat.

"Gordon! We can't–"

"We said we would do whatever it takes."

"But... but this... this is barbaric! This is–"

"This is _necessary," _Gordon snapped. "If you can't take it, wait outside."

Amy stared at him for a moment. Then she let go and retreated to the wall, her arms folded tightly. Gordon would have ordered her to leave, but a weak moan from below him snatched his attention and he turned away. Opium lay limp in the chair, his chest heaving with sharp, shallow breaths. New blood was trickling from the corner of his mouth. Gordon slapped him lightly, and he flinched.

"Tell me what I want to know, and I will stop."

Opium rolled his head to the side and looked Gordon in the face, the whites of his eyes pink with unshed tears. His broken, beaten body shook and his mouth hung open. He made a small noise in the back of his throat. Gordon bent closer.

"Hu... Hu... Hathway St-Street," Opium breathed, his voice trembling and weak.

Gordon smiled. At least one of his questions was answered.

"There," he said, dropping the knife and vial onto the table. "Was that so difficult?"

Opium's eyes slid out of focus, his breathing loud and irregular. Gordon picked up the syringe and reached for the vampire's wrist.

"Gordon, he's had enough–"

"No, he hasn't," Gordon said over his shoulder. "Not until every one of my questions is answered."

He squeezed half of the syringe's contents into the vampire's bloodstream and let the needle fall onto the table. Opium's veins pulsed wildly, pressing against his skin. He turned, dusting off his hands.

"Keep an eye on him," he said.

Then he turned and strode out of the room. The vampire let out a weak moan, struggling to breathe. Amy automatically took a few steps forwards, and then seemed to remember what he was and stopped. She ran a hand through her hair, sighing heavily.

"Look, if you would just tell him what he want's to know-"

Opium didn't seem to hear her. His eyes were squeezed shut in agony. Amy stepped closer, biting her lip. He was by far the most handsome vampire she had seen for a long time - he had jet black hair which hung down over one eye and silvery eyes, almost like a cat. His body was toned and muscular, unlike some of the fat, rude vampires they had encountered in the past drunk on blood. She was right next to him now, looking down at him.

"I wish you would tell him," she said, almost to herself. "These Winchesters are hunters too, aren't they? What possible reason could you have for protecting them?"

His eyes flickered open suddenly, reflecting the light so that they appeared to glow slightly in the darkness. She hesitated as his eyes roved over her face and then stared straight past her at something else. But they weren't unfocused, he was looking at _something... _before she could even draw breath to gasp, a hand closed over her mouth.

"Its a little something called loyalty," a voice growled in her ear. "I wouldn't expect you to understand."

Something hard came down on the back of her head and she slumped to the ground, unconscious. Sam Winchester stepped over her lifeless form and looked down at Opium.

"Hey, mate," he said softly. "Don't worry. I'm getting you out of here."

**So what do you think? Confusing? I hope so! Please REVIEW!!**

**SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


	2. Vampires and Visions

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural... I just wish I did!**

**By the way, I do know that in the Supernatural series vampires don't have the typical two pointed fangs, but in this story I'm going to bend the laws a little bit. Its back to the old-fashioned vampire for me!**

_One Week Earlier..._

Sam's skin stuck to the frosty window of the Impala, the icy cold eating through the glass and into his cheek. It took him a few moments to fight his way back to consciousness, and then a few more before he realized that they were speeding through cold, grey fields on a deserted, cracked highway. Skeletal trees clawed at the sky by the side of the road and dark clouds rolled and heaved in the sky, blocking out all traces of sunlight. Sam sat up slowly, blinking hard. This couldn't be right. He didn't recognize this place at all. He peered out of the window, frowning in confusion.

"Dean?" he croaked, his voice dry from lack of use. He cleared his throat and spoke again, his voice stronger this time. "Hey, Dean, where are we?"

No reply. He turned his head and his eyes widened. There was no one driving the car - his brother was nowhere to be seen. Even as this realization rushed through him, the car began to drift off towards the side of the road, heading straight for one of the larger trees. With a yell, Sam launched himself across the car and grabbed the steering wheel, wrenching it back on course. As he scrambled into the driver's seat he looked over his shoulder, searching the empty car with his eyes.

"Dean!" he shouted. Nothing.

_What the hell?_

Sam turned back to face the road - and saw Dean standing in the centre of it. Sharp panic jolted through Sam like an electric shock and he slammed his foot down on the brake, but the car wouldn't stop... in the split second before he slammed into his brother, Dean tilted his head to the side and opened his mouth to reveal two slim, delicate fangs lengthening from his canines...

Sam jerked awake with a gasp and sat frozen in his seat, his father's journal falling from his numb hands. Dean glanced at him quickly, halting in his parcipitation in the chorus of 'highway to hell' to study his younger brother.

"Sam? What's up?"

Sam took in Dean sitting safely at the steering wheel, the dull, suburban houses shooting past them out the window... he shut his eyes, struggling to control himself. It had just been a dream, a _dream... _but god, it had felt so real this time, almost like a vision...

"Sammy?"

"I'm fine," Sam mumbled, rubbing a hand over his face. "Sorry. Where are we?"

Dean frowned at him, but seemed to accept his answer. He returned his gaze to the road, accelerating lazily over the highway. "Just outside the main city. This is where most of the killings have been happening, so I figured we'd start off there."

"You sure its vampires?" The memory of his dream leapt into Sam's head, and he swallowed hard. "Could be a werewolf," he said, trying to focus on the job.

"Nah," Dean said, shaking his head. "We've met vampires before. The victims have been found in their homes or in the streets completely drained of blood, none of the neighbours have noticed anything mysterious and its not a full moon. Its definately vampires."

"There were three more last night," Sam added, glancing down at the journal where he had stuck a post-it. "That makes... nine killings in the last week."

"That's a little excessive for your average vampire, isn't it?" Dean asked, arching his eyebrows. "Or are they just out of control?"

"Vampires usually hunt in groups - colonies, Dad calls them - so this could just be a larger amount than usual. Although," he added dryly, "From the way these people are being killed I'd say that these vampires are not exactly on a diet."

Dean shook his head. "I thought they were all turning veggie? Like that Lenore, remember her?"

Sam shrugged. "Apparently not all of them are as sweet and gentle as her. We could try running the veggie theory past them..."

He glanced at Dean, who was smirking. "Sure, before or after they drain our guts?"

"Yeah, right," Sam muttered, grinning at the thought of themselves trying to convince a dozen bloodthirsty vampires that everyone could be one happy family. He looked out of the window.

By now they had entered the city. It was late evening and the nightclubs were already open, flashing signs and images lighting the street and harsh red, blue and green. People were walking the streets, some already drunk and staggering, others trying to get past huge, balding bouncers. Dean slowed down suddenly and gestured to a bar, huge silver letters spelling out '_Lights Out' _over the door.

"Night's still young," he said. "How about making a start?"

Sam sighed. Over the past week they had driven out an angry ghost, unearthed an undead zombie and burned down a cursed gym. All he wanted to do was find a bed somewhere and go to sleep. But hunting came first. He nodded, shoving the journal into the glove compartment.

"Sure," he muttered.

Dean grinned and drove on. They parked the Impala around a corner a few blocks down and then walked back, armed with silver knives and some of the smaller stakes which they could hide inside their jackets. A few girls shouted at them from across the street, and Dean wolf-whistled back. Sam elbowed him sharply.

"Dean, come on! We're on a job!"

Dean scowled at him but reluctantly turned away from the girls and continued towards the bar. They reached it and stepped inside.

The atmosphere was dark and muggy, the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke hanging in the air. The place was crammed with people, ranging from burly bikers to petite girls. A pool table in the corner was surrounded by five or six people, who seemed more interested in laughing at some story one of them was telling than actually playing pool. Heavy rock music pounded through the air. Sam scanned the room, frowning. He already had several suspects - the tall, black-haired woman flirting with three men near the sound system, a tall man bending over a young blonde, the small group of girls crowded around one table talking quietly amongst each other. Dean shot him a glance.

"You want a beer?" he asked pointedly.

Sam nodded. "I'll get us a table," he said.

He moved away, heading for a table squashed up against one wall, within earshot of most of the individuals he had picked out. He sat down and picked up a leaflet lying on the table, pretending to read it. The black-haired woman was immiediatly a no go; she was trying to convince the men that they could get better deals from Louisiana Banks while they were simply trying and failling to ask her out. The girls around the table were talking angrily about a boy who had cheated on one of them. The man and the blonde had begun to make out, and neither was showing any hint of bloodlust. Well, not yet at least. Someone suddenly swore loudly and Sam turned. The a tall man with dirty blonde hair straggling past his jawline was shouting angrily at someone who had apparently nudged him as they walked past. Sam's eyes narrowed. There were six people in the group all together, all of them pale, all of them darkly beautiful. Four men, two women. A man and a woman were making out on the corner of the pool table, another man and the other woman were watching the blonde man who was still yelling furiously. The final man was sitting on the floor against the wall, his dark hair hanging over his face to hide his eyes, his hands spinning a sleek knife in smooth circles.

"Lusing," one of the women said as the blonde-haired man's voice rose.

The man - Lusing, apparently - scowled and shoved his way over to the bar, pushing past Dean in the process. Dean recoiled almost at once, his eyes widening, but Lusing barely looked at him. Dean made his way over to Sam, shoving a beer across the table towards him.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Sam muttered, still holding the leaflet. "That whole group over there..."

"You kidding?" Dean hissed. "That guy - Lusing or whatever it was - he stinks of blood. The barman said they're in here most times a week, and they've been here for three weeks."

"Right when the killings started," Sam said, nodding.

Dean smirked suddenly, and Sam frowned.

"What?"

"So, ah, you've finally decided to stop pretending and show the world how you really feel?"

"Wha..." Sam looked down at the leaflet for the first time. _Gay and Proud - A Self-Confidence Booster Class. _Sam dropped the leaflet at once, his face flushing red. "No! I... shut up, Dean!" he snapped as his brother sniggered.

Lusing suddenly returned to the pool table, his arm around a girl he had apparently found at the bar. She looked a little worried, but smiled as he whispered something in her ear. The vampire sitting on the floor abruptly stood up and grabbed Lusing's arm, hissing something through clenched teeth. Lusing shoved him away and steered the girl towards the back door. The other vampires followed eagerly.

"Hold up," Dean muttered. "Looks like we've got them caught in the act."

"Let's go," Sam agreed.

They stood up and headed for the door, leaving their beers untouched. By the time they emerged into the alleyway beyond the bar, there was no sign of the vampires or their new prey. Dean pulled a silver knife from his pocket.

"There's a lot of them. We shouldn't split up."

Sam nodded. "This way," he said, gesturing towards the left. "They wouldn't go back to the road if they're planning to kill someone."

They followed the alleyway away from the road, turning right and then left. A short squeal reached their ears and both brothers instantly tensed, lifting their weapons. Dean put a finger to his lips and then moved forwards, inching around a turn to the right. Sam followed him.

The alleyway now opened up into a large car park, a block of flats rising up behind it. The vampires had stopped in the middle and were playing with the girl, forming a circle around her. Dean jerked his head at Sam and the brothers ducked behind a huge dumpster, leaning around the edge to watch the vampires.

"We need more weapons," Sam mumbled. "There are too many of them."

"By the time we leave and come back she'll be dead," Dean replied under his breath. "We have to do something now! Maybe if we just run at them they'll get spooked and leave."

Sam bit his lip. "That's a pretty big risk, Dean."

A second shriek of fear. Sam looked up sharply. Lusing had stepped into the centre of the circle and had twisted the girl's arm behind her back, leaning close to her neck. She screamed again and lashed out desperately, completely missing him. The vampires were laughing; one of the women had doubled over, trying to control her giggling. Sam's fists clenched in anger.

"Look, guys, I think she likes me!" Lusing called, provoking even louder howls of laughter. "Maybe we should take this somewhere a little more private-"

_"That's enough!"_

Sam flinched as a new voice rang through the car park. The other vampires turned, Lusing's smirk dying slightly.

"Opium!" He roared, shoving the girl towards another vampire. "How many times do I have to tell you to _shut - up!_"

The vampire called Opium came into sight from between two cars. Sam recognized him as the vampire who had been sitting on the floor in the bar. He had dark hair which hung over one silvery eye and a thin but lean body. He was wearing a black jackets and jeans that were torn at the knee, much scruffier than the other vampires who were clad in sleek leather. He moved forwards and Lusing stepped up to meet him, the vampires standing eye to eye.

"You've gone far enough, Lusing," Opium said coldly. "You can't keep killing like this! Hunters will come for us, people will find out what we are-"

"You seem to have forgotten that I'm the leader of this pack, not you," Lusing snapped. "And _I _want blood."

"You're acting like an animal," Opium said, his voice low with disgust as Lusing turned and snatched the girl back.

"And _you _are acting like one of _them,_" Lusing growled, shaking the girl slightly. "If you want to feast off rats and street cats, go ahead. But unless you want to be on your own, you'll keep your insufferable pacifist crap to yourself."

Opium's eyes seemed to burn with fury at the insult, and his shaking hands clenched into fists at his sides. He opened his mouth - and a sleek, curved blade span out of the darkness and detatched one of the other vampire's head from his shoulders. The vampires twisted around, gasping in shock as the headless body collapsed, twitching and jerking. Lusing shoved the girl to the ground and turned in the direction the blade had come from, snarling. The moonlight fell across his face and the hairs on the back of Sam's neck rose as he took in long, curved fangs and glittering silver eyes.

"Do mine eyes decieve me," he growled. "Or do I smell the blood of a hunter?"

The other vampires moved forwards to his side. Opium remained where he was, his eyes flickering over the shadows in the car park. Slowly, out of sight of Lusing, he moved backwards and pulled the girl to her feet, muttering something in her ear. She shot him a stunned glance and then ran towards the mouth of the alleyway where Sam and Dean were still crouched. Dean grabbed her wrist as she reached them and whipped her behind the dumpster with him, putting a hand over her mouth to silence her scream of panic.

"Don't worry, we're here to help you," he whispered.

"Come out, you coward!"

They all froze as Lusing's voice cut through the air. Sam leant out once more and watched as the vampire moved around in a wide circle, his eyes darting over the shadows.

"I said, come out! _NOW!"_

"That vampire," Dean was whispering. "What did he say to you?"

The girl stared back at them, wide-eyed.

"H-He just told me to run," she croaked, trembling. "Let go, please..."

Dean released her and she scrambled up and sprinted away into the alleyway. Dean shot a meaningful look at Sam, who shook his head and looked out into the car park again. At that moment a second blade appeared, shooting through the air towards Lusing. Lusing caught it in his fist, his teeth baring in rage.

"Come out!" he demanded again.

One of the female vampires put a hand on his arm, muttering something in his ear. He scowled but nodded, and jerked his head at them. The group turned as one and raced into the darkness, Opium among them. Sam made to get up but Dean grabbed his jacket and pulled him back down.

"Wait," he growled. "I want to see who we're up against."

Sam crouched down again, his legs beginning to ache from being cramped in the same position for so long. He waited, watching the empty car park. Suddenly a tall, dark figure appeared in the car park, striding over to the headless corpse. Sam stiffened, and Dean swore softly under his breath.

Gordon Walker.

"I don't believe it," Dean spat. "What the hell... why do we always... sonuvabitch!"

"Shh!" Sam hissed. "He's not alone."

A woman was emerging from the same place, holding another of the curved blades. She crossed to Gordon, who was now kneeling beside the corpse. He said something and together they heaved the body and head into a large sack and moved over to one of the cars. They dumped the body in the boot, got in and drove away.

Sam turned away and sat back against the dumpster, looking at Dean who was shaking his head.

"For god's sake," Dean was muttering furiously. "Okay, that's it, we're leaving."

"Leaving?" Sam repeated. "Dean, we can't leave! What about the job?"

"Gordon can deal with the blood thirsty vampires," Dean said. "We're leaving before he can get a whiff of you and start up the 'I-hate-Sam-Winchester' club again."

"But... but Dean..." Sam shook his head. "I just think there's more to this job than we're seeing. That vampire was talking about pacifism, wasn't he?"

"So what!"

"So, that means he's not evil!" Sam said. "And _that _means that there might be others like him in the colony."

"I didn't see him getting a lot of support."

Sam scowled. "Look, Dean, we only let evil things get hunted. If he isn't evil-"

"Damnit, Sam, who cares about some confused vampire?" Dean demanded. "This is about you! If Gordon finds you again, he's going to kill you."

Sam held his gaze. "Please, Dean, _please. _Just give me tomorrow night to find something worth staying for."

Dean squirmed uncomfortably under Sam's pleading eyes. He looked at his watch, looked at the empty car park, looked at Sam and gave in with a heavy sigh of fustration.

"Fine. Fine! One night. _One, _Sam, you hear me?"

Sam grinned. "Yeah, yeah," he said. "Now, lets follow those vampires."

**Please REVIEW!**

**SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


	3. Opium

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural... I just wish I did!**

_Dean's silvery eyes glowed in the darkness, strangely wide and eerie. Sam tore desperately at the steering wheel of the Impala, letting out a scream of fustration as the car refused to stop. Dean's top lip curled back from his teeth, his fangs shining in the moonlight._

_"I can live forever as a monster, Sammy," he hissed, his voice loud and clear as if he were right beside Sam._

_Even as Sam thought that, Dean vanished from the road and appeared in the passengar seat beside him, gripping the leather hard with bone-white, long-nailed fingers. He cocked his head._

_"Why don't you join me?" Dean asked, his voice a dry rasp. "Wait, what am I thinking? You're already a monster, aren't you?"_

_Without another moment's pause he launched himself forwards, his cold fingers snatching for Sam's throat. Sam let out a yell, a thrill of fear rushing through him, and he clawed at the door of the car. Dean grabbed the collar of his coat - Sam span around onto his back, kicking wildly, the door fell open and Sam flew out of the car and hit the tarmac, his skin tearing like paper, blood clogging his nose and mouth, muffling his screams -_

"Hey! _Hey!_"

Sam's eyes flew open and he thrashed wildly against the hands that had closed over his shoulders. The hands tightened and Sam focussed on a ruffled Dean leaning over him, breathing hard.

"Sammy, calm down!" Dean was shouting. "Its okay! Calm down!"

Sam realized that he was gripping Dean's arms tightly, his fingers digging right into his brother's skin. With a huge effort, he let go and forced his tense body to relax, falling back on the bed. Dean slowly let go of him, as if worried he would start struggling again.

"What's wrong with you?" he said shakily. "Don't tell me - another nightmare?"

Sam took a few deep breath, wiping at the sweat on his forehead with a trembling hand. "Yeah," he panted. "S-Sorry..."

"Jesus don't apologise, Sam," Dean replied, moving away to his bag which was lying open on his bed. "I thought you were having a heart attack or something."

Sam sat up slowly, looking around. It was late morning, the sun streaming in through the open window of their motel room. With a groan, he remembered the night before - how they had lost track of the vampires within a few short minutes, how they had driven around town for hours searching for a possible den, how they had finally booked into a motel in the early hours tired, aching and damp. Sam had been so exhausted that he hadn't even bothered to change out of his clothes; he had simply fallen down on his bed and slept.

Dean had apparently been up for some time. He had taken a shower and was now sorting out all their vampire hunting gear from their regular hunting gear, laying it out carefully on the bed. At least he wasn't going to be awkward about this hunt. Sam got up, his head pounding from the movement, and made for the bathroom.

"Hurry up," Dean called after him. "I'm starving."

As Sam stood under the hot cascade of water, he went over the nightmares in his head. Dean as a vampire. Sam almost killing him and then his brother returning the favour. Why was he picturing a vampire-Dean? _I can live forever as a monster... _Sam felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise up. Yes, vampires were imortal and yes, they were supernatural but could that somehow excuse them from the deal the crossroads demon made? Or, to put it another way, if Dean had no soul to steal, would he still be dragged to hell?

Could Dean be saved by becoming a vampire?

Sam dried himself quickly and headed out into the motel room, dressed in clean clothes. Dean had already packed their vampire gear into a smaller bag and was waiting by the door, examining his watch.

"Finally," he said, pulling open the door. "Grab your coat and lets go find some food."

It was only when they had driven into the city again and parked the car that Dean began to question Sam.

"Come on, then," he said, shouldering his bag. "What's with these nightmares of yours?"

Sam scowled. "They're nothing, Dean. They'll pass eventually."

"Really? Because you haven't slept this badly since your visions stopped. At least tell me what they're about, huh?"

Sam shot him a smirk. "I dreamt you developed a sense of respect towards other human beings and a decent sense of humor. The shock almost killed me."

Dean scowled. "Look, you're gonna have to tell me eventually," he snapped. "You can't hide forever, especially not from me."

Sam pointed across the road. "How about that one?"

Dean glanced over at the diner he was indicating and shrugged. "Whatever."

They made their way across the road and slipped into the diner, picking a table near the window. Dean eagerly grabbed the menu and looked over it.

"We'd better keep an eye out for Gordon," he said as he read it. "Last thing we want is to run into him. How are we even going to find this vampire colony?" he added, glancing up. "It can take weeks, even months, to track one down. Why can't we just leave it to Gordon?"

"Because," Sam replied stonily, "If something isn't evil-"

"Alright, alright!" Dean said, exasperated. "I get the picture. Well, then, you think of a plan for a change."

Sam sighed. A young waitress approached them an he ordered a stack of pancakes before drifting off into his own thoughts again as Dean began to flirt with her. His eyes slid around the diner. He was so engrossed in his own thoughts that he almost missed the tall, thin, dark-haired man sitting in the corner. He blinked and looked again, hardly able to believe it. It was Opium, the vampire he had seen the night before.

Sam looked quickly at Dean, but his brother was watching the waitress as she walked away, and waved his hand irritably when Sam hissed his name. Sam looked back at Opium, his brain buzzing. Why was a vampire sitting in a diner at twelve thirty in the morning? Opium was wearing dark sunglasses and had the collar of his jacket pulled straight up, one long hand lifted to mask his face from the sun. And he wasn't alone... seated in front of him at their table in the dark corner of the diner was a girl with short white-blonde hair and large blue eyes. Could the vampire be hunting? In the middle of the day? No... he didn't look as if he were trying to lure the girl into some secret base to be fed on. Instead she was talking ernestly, her eyes intense with the seriousness of what she was saying, and he was nodding as he listened to her. And she definately was not a vampire.

"Here you go, boys."

"Thanks, honey," Dean said, grinning as the waitress returned and set down two plates. As she turned and left, Dean nudged Sam's hand. "Hey, Sam, look she looks even better from behind..."

"Dean..."

"God, she must work out look at that tight little-"

At that moment the blonde girl reached out and took one of Opium's hand in both of hers, squeezing it gently.

"Dean!" Sam hissed, almost leaping out of his seat in shock. "Dean, _look!"_

Dean flinched and twisted around, reaching for his gun. There was a slight pause.

"What?" he said, angrily. And then, "Oh. Urgh!" He turned around quickly. "She's touching vampire skin. All cold and clammy and-"

"Dean, focus!" Sam snarled. "Its like they know each other."

"Looks like they more than just _know _each other, if you get my drift," Dean muttered, spearing a sausage on the end of his fork and stuffing it into his mouth.

Sam absently began to eat his pancake, still watching the couple carefully. Opium was shaking his head, clawing a hand through his hair. The girl nodded insistently, leaning forwards so that she could lower her voice. In the daylight, Opium looked nowhere near as powerful as he had the night before. In the sunlight he looked tired, slightly ill, like someone who had only just got out of hospital. He pulled off his sunglasses, revealing bloodshot eyes which were a surprisingly clear blue without the glare of moonlight, and stabbed a finger at the girl before wiping something off the sunglasses and pushing them back on again.

"You gonna finish that?"

Sam looked at Dean. He had finished about half of his pancakes, while Dean had polished off his entire plate. Rolling his eyes, Sam pushed his plate over to him. Dean tucked into the remainder of his pancakes greedily.

"We've got more important things to think about than your stomach, Dean!" Sam muttered.

"What, like the veggie-vamp?" Dean asked through a mouthfull of pancake. "He's not even doing anything."

Even as he spoke Opium suddenly touched the girls hand and rose to his feet. He strode past them and over to the door. Sam leapt up at once and moved after him, ignoring Dean's protests. He stepped out onto the street in time to see Opium turn left and vanish around a corner. Without bothering to wait for Dean, Sam raced after him. He turned the corner into a deserted road with dull, broken-down houses on the right and a tall brick wall on the left. Opium was halfway down the road, his hands in his pockets, his head ducked right down to avoid the sun as much as possible. Sam sprinted after him.

"Hey! Hey, Opium!"

The vampire stopped and then turned around slowly. He frowned. "How do you know that name?" he asked coldly.

Sam reached him and stopped, panting. "My brother and I saw you and your colony last night, we have to-"

He broke off with a sharp gasp as Opium's hand snaked out and grasped up by the collar, forcing him back against the wall. The vampire's forearm slammed against his throat, balling his other hand into a fist and lifting it threateningly.

"You're the hunter?" he snarled. "You killed Eden?"

Sam froze, his eyes widening in horror. "Wha? No, we were just watching," he rasped. "We didn't, I swear..."

"Eden was one of the best of us," Opium snapped. "He didn't even kill most times when he fed. Why did he deserve to die, huh?"

Sam shook his head, choking as Opium pressed harder against his throat. Black dots were beginning to appear before his eyes... and Opium froze as a silver knife touched his neck.

"Drop him, vamp," Dean ordered. "Or I'll drop you."

Opium turned his head slightly to look at Dean, and the knife carved a small gash in his neck. His eyes narrowed. Then he forcefully shoved Sam away and stepped backwards. In one swift movement he tore his curved knife from his belt and held it out.

"You want a fight, hunter?" he asked. "Lets make it even, then."

Dean scowled at him and pulled Sam up to his feet, gripping him by the arm. "You okay, Sammy?" he asked in a lowered voice.

Sam nodded. "Yeah," he said hoarsely. "Opium, listen to me," he begged. "We weren't the ones who killed your friends, I swear. There's another hunter here, Gordon Walker..."

He trailed off as Opium tensed, his lips parting in a small gasp. Dean smiled grimly.

"You've heard of him, then?"

Opium looked from one to the other. "Why should I believe you?"

"Because if you don't, Gordon will track you down and kill your whole colony."

Opium flinched slightly. Then he lowered the knife, still keeping it grasped tightly in his hand. Dean cautiously lowered his own weapon. Sam let himself relax a little.

"We can handle Walker," Opium said. "We don't need your kind of help."

"Really? He's so ruthless he'll probably kill your girlfriend back there just for looking at you-"

Opium's knife was up again in seconds, cutting Dean's sentence short. "You stay away from Vicky," he growled. "If you touch her, I swear to god..." he shook his head and shoved his knife away. "Stay away from all of us," he snarled. Then he turned away and began to walk again.

Sam made to follow him, but Dean held out a restraining hand.

"Don't," he muttered. "He doesn't want our help. Looks like we touched a nerve."

Sam sighed. "He doesn't understand. We have to try and get through to him."

"Or," Dean said slowly, "We could follow him and find out where his colony's hiding."

* * *

Six o'clock that evening found Sam and Dean crouched behind a large bush on the side of a road, shivering grimly as the rain ate through their coats. Opium had proven almost impossible to follow but they had eventually tracked him to a small, broken-down wooden house on the very edge of the city. It was dusk now, and they were hoping to see some movement. An hour ago Dean had run over to the house to look through the window and had seen only four vampires asleep in the front room; Lusing was missing. Sam would have felt much better if he had known where all of the vampires were. The Impala was close by, hidden just around the corner in case they had to make a run for it, but if Lusing suddenly turned up Sam doubted they would get as far as the car.

"Why are we here?" Dean asked for the millionth time.

"To convince the colony to leave the city and turn to a blood-free diet," Sam replied. He winced. Even he could tell that the plan was crap.

"Then why can't we just get in there and start convincing?" Dean hissed. "I'm freezing my ass of here!"

Sam shook his head. "We have to wait for Lusing, he's the one in charge," he replied irritably.

"Why can't we wait inside?!"

Sam rolled his eyes and shifted his weight. As he opened his mouth to answer a car suddenly pulled up outside the house, and the Winchester brothers ducked down behind the bush. Lusing climbed out of the car, opened the back door and pulled out a struggling figure. He strode towards the house, dragging the figure behind him.

"Damn," Dean whispered.

Sam had recognized her too - it was the girl Opium had called Vicky from the diner that morning, and she looked scared.

"Something tells me Opium's in trouble," Sam muttered.

Dean shot a glance at him and jerked his head. Together they ran silently over to the house and dodged around to the back. The window of the kitchen was broken - Dean gave Sam a leg-up through it and Sam pulled him up after him. The kitchen had a door leading through to the front room and a doorway leading straight through to the front door. Sam and Dean crept over to the door to the front room and edged it open a little, peering through it. They had timed it perfectly - just as they looked through into the room, Lusing strode inside with Vicky stumbling behind him.

The vampires looked up, blinking blearily; Opium leapt to his feet as if he had sustained an electric shock. Lusing smiled, showing his fangs.

"Look what I found," he said silkily, running his hand through Vicky's hair.

"Aw, excellent," another vampire said, rising to his feet. "I was just getting hungry-"

"NO!"

Every head turned to look at Opium, who was standing rigid against the wall, his hands balled into shaking fists. Lusing looked thrilled, as if he had never had so much fun in his life. Sam and Dean exchanged a wary glance.

"Something wrong, Opium?" Lusing asked innocently. "Why, its almost as if you have _feelings _for this pathetic excuse for a life..."

Opium stepped forwards. "Lusing," he said in a low voice, so quiet that Sam barely heard him. "Please... you said you didn't care..."

"That was before hunters mysteriously appeared in the city," Lusing snarled. "I wonder who could have told them?"

"I wouldn't," Vicky gasped. "I would never-"

She broke off with a short yelp as Lusing fisted a hand in her hair and wrenched her head back.

"Now, now, wrench," he said through his bared fangs. "Speak when spoken to."

_"Let her go!" _Opium's voice rang with rage and power; Lusing actually seemed to hesitate. Opium shook his head. "Why are you doing-"

"Because I want you to accept what you are!" Lusing roared. "Like the rest of us! You can't keep pretending forever."

Opium moved so fast that Sam barely saw him. One moment he was standing against the wall, the next Lusing roared with pain as a knife plunged into his arm and Opium pulled Vicky from his grasp, shoving her roughly behind him. The other vampires leapt to their feet, hissing with fury. Opium faced them, his lips curling back from his fangs. Sam reached for his machette.

"Dean," he whispered. "They'll rip him apart..."

"I know," Dean breathed back. "On three... one..."

Lusing had torn out the knife and thrown it away. He was now advancing on Opium, his eyes burning with rage. "You'll pay for that one, you freak!" he snarled.

"Two..."

"I've given you so many chances, I've trusted you again and again while others would have thrown you out," Lusing said. "But you will never learn. You will always be weak, pathetic, _human!"_

"Thre-"

Even as Sam made to get up, the front door burst open and the vampires all leapt back, spinning around. Sam's mouth went dry as a solitary man appeared in the doorway, a burning torch in one hand and a long, curved blade in the other.

Gordon Walker had found them at last.

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	4. Run

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural... I just wish I did!**

**Thank you so much for the reviews, I really do appreciate them!**

_In the last chapter:_

_Even as Sam made to get up, the front door burst open and the vampires all leapt back, spinning around. Sam's mouth went dry as a solitary man appeared in the doorway, a burning torch in one hand and a long, curved blade in the other._

_Gordon Walker had found them at last._

The vampires remained motionless, as if frozen in place, watching with cat-like eyes as Gordon scanned the room with an emotionless glare. The firelight danced over his face, reflecting in the vampires' eyes like hellfire, turning the walls red. Lusing was the first to break the silence - he spread his arm wide, letting out a shout of laughter.

"And just as we got to the good bit! Is this one of your new human pals, Opium?"

Gordon lifted the machette threateningly. "Shut your mouth, fang," he said coldly. "I'm here for one thing and one thing only."

"Well, you'll have to wait," Lusing said flippantly, turning away. "I have a little something to sort out with my dear brother here."

Before Gordon could reply, Lusing grabbed Opium by the collar and strode to the other end of the room, dragging the struggling vampire behind him. Vicky let out a yelp as Gordon grabbed her and pushed her out through the front door, clearly mistaking her for the vampire's victim. The other vampires closed in around him, hissing softly. Sam pressed himself against the wall as Lusing stopped right outside the door he and Dean were crouched behind. As Opium tore himself free, Lusing made a fist with his right hand and hit him hard in the face. As Opium doubled over Lusing lifted his fist again, baring his teeth in a snarl.

"You have crossed me for the last time," he growled. "I've given you so many chances, and you just throw them back in my face. Well, no more, Opium!"

He grabbed him by the throat and span around, slamming him against the wall. The wall shook, vibrating against Sam's shoulder. Sam felt a thrill of panic and without thinking launched himself through the door, lifting his machette.

"Let him go!" he ordered. "Now!"

Lusing shot him an unconcerned leer. Then in one fluid motion he turned and threw Opium across the room. The vampire flew through the air and smashed through the front window with a screech of breaking glass. Lusing span to face Sam, stepping forwards. Sam swung his machette, but Lusing simply knocked it aside and sent it spinning across the floor. His fist flew forwards, catching Sam in the jaw, and as Sam doubled over his knee jerked upwards, sinking into his stomach. Sam yelped, falling to his knees - and appeared behind Lusing and swung his machette. Lusing screamed in pain as the machette clipped the side of his head and stumbled away, blood leaking from between his fingers as he pressed a hand to the wound in the side of his head. Sam rose shakily to his feet and Dean shoved him towards the door they had come in through.

"Go. GO!"

Sam followed his gaze, and his eyes met Gordon's. Panic speared through him. _Shit..._

"Sam, run!" Dean roared, swinging his machette as a vampire leapt at him.

Sam didn't wait - he turned and sprinted into the kitchen. He vaulted over the counter and through the broken window, landing hard on the ground on the other side. He raced around the side of the house, making a break for the road. No sooner had he cleared the corner of the house than the door flew open and Gordon appeared, a gun in his hand. Bullets hit the ground behind Sam as he ran and he stumbled, his heart racing with fear. _How the hell did he get away from the vampires that fast? _He could hear footsteps rushing in behind him, he was out of time - Gordon slammed into him and they both fell to the ground, Gordon kneeling on Sam's legs. Before Sam could retaliate, Gordon squng the butt of his gun downwards and struck Sam across the face. Warm blood burst from his nose, flowing down over his lip and chin. Sam tried to lift a hand to stop him but Gordon simply knocked his hand back and hit him again so hard that stars danced before his eyes.

"End of the road, freak," Gordon growled.

Sam blinked hard, trying to see past the pain and black dots obscuring his vision. He heard the click of a gun and tensed. This was it, this was how he was going to die. Not fighting beside his brother, not rescuing someone from evil, here on the ground beneath Gordon. He made one final desperate grab for his knife but Gordon's knee was over his pocket and he couldn't reach it. He looked up at the hunter, the dark, merciless eyes...

And a heavy booted foot swung out of nowhere and hit Gordon in the face, sending him flying off Sam. Sam flinched in shock and looked up to see the vampire, Opium, standing over him his eyes dark and cold, blood trickling from a cut on his eyebrow where Lusing had hit him. He looked down.

"An eye for an eye?" he said, smirking slightly.

Sam stared at him. The sudden bark of a gunshot snapped through the air and Opium winced, putting a hand to his side. He looked up, his face twisting with anger. Gordon was on his knees, a gun lifted in his hand.

"Hey," Opium growled, starting forwards. "That hurt, you son of a-"

"Opium!"

He turned. Lusing was at the door, blood streaming down his face. "You get in that car, you're not coming back!" he yelled. "You hear me?"

Sam's eyes widened. Almost the exact same words had passed between him and his father. Opium had turned away and was striding over to the car Vicky was scrambling into. Sam rolled painfully over to check Gordon but another vampire had already attacked the hunter, forcing him back against his red car which was parked on the grass beside the house... from which flames were licking upwards, snatching at the windows and devouring the ancient wood. With a deep breath, Sam eased himself up to his hands and knees.

"Sammy!"

He looked up. Dean had emerged from the house and was running towards him, concern flickering in his face.

"Sammy, you okay? Jesus, your face..."

Sam wiped at the blood marring his features as he rose to his feet, gratefully accepting Dean's offered hand as he did so. "I'm okay. That vampire, Opium..."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, tell me later. Can we leave now?"

Sam looked past him. Lusing was wiping the blood from his face, his eyes roving over to fix on them. Another vampire had run from the house and attacked Gordon, so that the hunter was fighting two of them at once. Opium and Vicky had already fled the scene. The house was burning fiercely, the flames roaring with greed. Sam nodded.

"Yeah. Now we can leave."

* * *

"How many do you think are left?"

"Maybe three, not including Opium," Dean replied, pressing an alcohol-soaked swab against the gash on Sam's temple. "No more than that. You know what Gordon's like."

Sam bit his lip, holding in a yelp of pain as the alcohol stung him harshly. Dean taped down two butterfly stitches over the wound and then turned Sam's face towards the light, studying him carefully. Sam pushed his hand away, scowling.

"I'm okay, alright? Stop... stop _touching me!" _he snapped as Dean reached for his arm.

Dean pulled his hand back quickly. "You stop touching _me_," he retorted, crossing over to his own bed. "Jesus, you're so needy."

Sam rolled his eyes and leant back against the wall, fingering his tender nose gingerly. It still felt blocked and swollen, but at least it wasn't bleeding anymore. His head was throbbing painfully, but he decided against mentioning the fact and giving Dean another reason to fuss over him. The change in his brother was alarming at times like these - usually he couldn't wait to poke fun at Sam; now he was panicking over him as if he were about to pass out. Sam scrubbed a hand over his face and then glanced at his watch. It was only just nearing eleven, and yet he already felt exhausted. Maybe it was something to do with the nightmares that had been destroying his sleep lately.

"Come on, then," Dean muttered, lying back on his bed and folding his arms behind his head. "What are we going to do about your pet vampire?"

"Opium?" Sam shook his head. "I don't see how we're going to be able to find him. He's not stupid enough to just go wandering around in town now that Lusing's after him as well as Gordon. It looks like we'll just have to wait for him to come to us."

"Wait for him? I don't think so," Dean replied, looking at him sharply. "I said one night, Sam. We leave in the morning."

Sam sat up, his eyes narrowing. "No, you said one night for me to find a reason for us to stay. I'd say we have a pretty good reason now!"

"Really? Gordon Walker's here, the only decent vampire in the vicinity had scarpered and the others have our scent and are probably thirsting for our blood right about now. All that crap spells out three words: we - are - leaving!"

"No - we - aren't!" Sam said heatedly. "We can't just abandon the job, Dean!"

"I'm the oldest," Dean replied flatly, looking up at the ceiling. "So I'm always right, I make the decisions, and I say we're leaving."

"Screw that, Dean, we're not kids anymore!" Sam cried. "We're not going anywhere."

"Look at it this way," Dean said, sitting up and shooting Sam a smile. He ticked off a list on his fingers as he spoke. "I have the car. I have the money. I have the arsenol of weapons in the trunk. Basically, if you stay here on your own you won't last five minutes."

"In case you forgot, I survived collage pretty well without you standing over me," Sam said. "If I have to stay here alone in order to finish this job, then I will."

"I'm not leaving you here alone while Gordon's lurking around out there! How stupid do you think I am?"

"Do you want an honest answer?"

Dean rose to his feet, opening his mouth and stabbing a finger at Sam - and a fist hit the door three short times. Sam and Dean both froze, the arguement forgotten in seconds. Dean snatched up his gun from the bed and strode over to the door, moving as quietly as possible. Sam picked up the rock salt rifle that was lying on the bedside table and cocked it silently, turning it on the door. Dean shot him a meaningful glance, and he nodded shortly. Dean put a hand on the door knob and then with a sudden wrench pulled the door open, his gun swinging up to aim at the person outside.

Opium snatched his gun from his hand before he could even complete the movement and levelled it at Dean's head, a small smile playing across his lips.

"No need for that. I assumed you hunters wanted to care and share."

Sam grinned, throwing down his rifle and rising to his feet.

"Opium," he said, moving forwards. "You've decided to join us?"

Opium tossed the gun back to Dean and stepped inside, and Sam caught sight of Vicky just behind him. She greeted Sam with a smile, although Opium looked slightly on edge. Dean kicked the door shut behind them, clearly furious that the vampire had managed to get hold of his gun.

"Vicky Harston," Vicky said, extending her hand to first Dean and then Sam. "You're the Winchester brothers, right? Opium mentioned you on the way over. Apparently you're quite well known."

"If we're going to be formal about it," Dean muttered, softening slightly at the sight of a girl, "Dean Winchester."

"Sam," Sam said.

Vicky shook their hands and then looked pointedly at Opium, who suppressed a scowl and held out his own hand.

"Jake Rosten," he said.

Dean kept his hands firmly behind his back. Quickly stepping in, Sam took Opium's hand and shook it.

"I thought your name was Opium?"

"Opium is my new name, my vampire name if you want to think of it like that," Opium replied. "Jake Rosten is my original name."

"So if everyone's gonna call you Opium, you might as well just say your name is Opium," Dean said under his breath.

Sam shot him a glare, but Opium spoke before he could say anything.

"I'm not exactly thrilled about this either," the vampire said, "But Vicky pointed out that we're on the same side and she might be right. But first I need to clear some things up. Do you want to kill Lusing?"

Sam glanced quickly at Dean, who held up his hands as if to say 'don't ask me.' He looked back to Opium.

"He's killing people," he said. "And he doesn't seem to care either. So yeah, we probably will hunt him."

Opium blinked slowly, his silvery eyes remaining fixed on Sam's. Then, slowly, he nodded. "Okay," he said softly. "It was always going to happen eventually. What about Walker? What's he got to do with you?"

"Gordon thinks Sam's the antichrist," Dean said flatly. "He's a derranged psycho."

"Then it looks like we do have the same goals," Vicky said, nodding. She rubbed her hands together, looking around the room. "Right. Grab your bags."

Dean's eyebrows rose. "Well, I don't usually get this friendly until I've at least bought the girl a drink but if you insist..."

"Its too easy for the other vampires to find you here," Opium replied. "I could smell you a mile off. And don't hit on my girlfriend," he added in an icy tone.

"Where were you thinking of going then?" asked Sam, reaching for his bag and cramming the weapons strewn across his bed into it. "Vampires can track you down no matter where you go once they have your scent."

"You're going to stay with us," Vicky informed them. "It'll be best for us to be all together anyway." She moved towards the door, Opium following her.

"We'll wait outside. Make it quick," Opium said coldly.

The door slammed shut behind them, and Sam and Dean were left alone once more. The brothers exchanged a look.

"She's pretty demanding, isn't she," Sam muttered. "What do you think?"

Dean smirked at him. "I think we do what the hot girl says and follow her home."

Sam sniggered as Dean hurriedly packed his bag. "Watch it, Dean. You might want to think twice before you get on the wrong side of a vampire."

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	5. Dreaming

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural... I just wish I did!**

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The place Vicky called home was a small, badly-kept house in the depths of the council homes in the city. Paint was flaking off the windows and doors, and the bricks were crumbling in some places or covered in graffitti in others. Cracked tiles teetered dangerously on the roof, threatening to fall at any moment. It was sandwiched between two other houses which barely looked any different and had a tiny font garden littered with sqaushed cans and takeaway food boxes. As Sam got out of the car someone yelled at them from across the road and he glanced up. A small gang of yobs had turned the corner and were hooting and shouting at them, making rude gestures as they did so. Dean scowled angrily at them as he reached Sam's side, a rucksack hanging from his hand and a duffel bag draped over his shoulder.

"Nice place," he muttered. "You think we'll be introduced to her smiling sweet grandma, warm cookies held aloft any time soon?"

Sam shook his head and turned to follow Opium and Vicky, who were at the door of the house. They had completely ignored the yobs in a sullen, bored manner as if they encountered such people every day. Probably did, thought Sam. He and Dean trapised up the overgrown path to the front door, Dean kicking tins out of his way, Sam stepping carefully over them as if worried that in disturbing them he might mortally offend someone. Neither of them had ever been invited into a vampire nest before. Sure, Sam had been dragged into one gagged and bound once, and both of them had snuck into nests to hunt before, but this was completely different. A) this time they were being invited and B) this time they were coming to see a human and a vampire living together in apparent peace. Sam could practically taste the confusion and wary vibes spiralling off Dean, and was sure that his brother could sense his own uncertainty just as much. He forced a smile, muttering under his breath as they neared the door.

"What do you think Dad would say if he could see us now?"

Dean snorted. "I dunno, maybe 'get the hell back in the car and let me deal with killing the vampires you idiots'?"

Sam sniggered, shaking his head. "I guess so."

Vicky got the door open and human and vampire stepped inside. Sam wet his lips as the door swung shut behind him, a soft click sealing him inside. No way back now. Forcing himself to act natrually, he looked around.

Whatever he had been expecting - stone walls, coffins, bottles of blood stashed against the walls? - it was not this. The whole of the first floor was open in one huge room which was a combination of a kitchen, living room and dining room. The furniture was shabby but surprisingly comfy-looking and clean. But it was not the furniture that caught at Sam's attention. The walls were plastered with black and white photographs, some so anicent that they had turned brown and were faded and wrinkled with age. In one corner stood a huge bust of the head and shoulders of a woman, vaugely resembling a greek goddess but with peircings all the way down the side of her face. Spattered out across the coffee table was a combination of dry and wet clay, some larger peices wrapped in thick wet towels, some thinner projects cemented to the wood as they dried.

Sam had no idea what to make of it all, and from the stunned, blank expression on Dean's face neither did his brother.

Opium made his way forwards and dragged the clay-covered coffee table away to put it against the wall. Vicky, who had moved the the cupboard under the stairs, returned with two sleeping bags under her arms and dumped them on the sofa. Dean instantly raced forwards to claim the sofa, dumping the second sleeping bag on the floor to make it clear where Sam was going to be sleeping. Partly out of interest and partly to give himself something to do, Sam let his bags fall and stepped closer to the wall to examine the photographs. In one or two he could see a woman who vaguley resembled Vicky, a man who shared a likeness in the nose or eyes, a girl who had the same build. He glanced over his shoulder at Vicky, who was dusting off her hands and shooting Opium meaningful looks - the vampire had retreated to the kitchen table and was sitting there in a stubborn silence.

"Are all these people related to you?" he asked.

Vicky looked up and then smiled. She moved over to him. "Yes. That man over there is my father and the woman next to him is my mother. They're kind of family heirlooms - I'm the last one left and so they all ended up with me."

Sam didn't know whether to appear interested or sorry for her obvious losses. To save them from an awkward silence, he quickly pointed at one of the few colour photographs in the room.

"Is this a cousin? She looks exactly like you."

"That was my twin sister," Vicky said matter-of-factly. "She was bitten by a vampire two years ago. I met Opium a few months after that."

Desperate not to dig this hole any deeper, Sam adopted a bright tone. "Well, you've still got her, then."

"She was killed by hunters four weeks after she was bitten," Vicky replied softly.

Sam's stomach plunged away. All he managed was a stuttered, "Oh" before turning and quickly making a beeline for Dean, who was setting up his bed on the sofa. He busied himself with his bags, determind not to look at either of the strangers.

"Right," Vicky said brightly, her voice ringing through the silent room. "I'm going to bed. You guys make yourself comfortable. Opium...?"

"I'll be up in a minute," he muttered, his voice almost inaudiable.

Sam and Dean exchanged a quick glance. So now they actually slept in the same bed together? How the hell did he get past the bloodlust? Vicky made her way up the stairs, and Dean looked over at Opium.

"You just gonna sit there, huh?"

Opium looked slowly at him, and then got up and moved away to retrieve a beer from the fridge before returning to his place at the table. Dean looked down at Sam, arching one eyebrow. Discreetly he reached over to his pillow and lifted it to reveal a rocksalt rifle, a silver knife and a flask of what looked like dead man's blood. For once, Sam didn't reproach him. With a vampire sitting up just a few meters away from them, he would feel much safer if his brother was armed. He gave Dean a small nod and retrieved a knife to slide under his own pillow.

Just in case.

* * *

_The Impala shuddered to a halt and Sam scrambled out of the passenger seat. He looked around, gasping for breath as if he had just run a mile. No Dean. He whirled back to look at the car and saw instead a sharp cliff falling away before his feet. About two meters below him, a small ledge jutted out from the rock, amazingly flat and smooth. Dean was standing on the edge of the ledge, staring down into the darkness and nothingness below. He kicked at a stone and it flew over the edge. As it fell the darkness turned to a rushing, roaring river rapids, spiked with rocks, crawling with demons and evil._

_Panic lanced through Sam and he threw himself forwards, almost stumbling over the edge of the cliff in his haste. His shout tore from his throat like sandpaper._

_"Dean! Dean get off the rock its gonna break! DEAN!"_

_Dean looked up at him slowly. Blood was trickling from his lip. Was he hurt? What the hell had happened? Sam lay down on his stomach and threw out his arms, reaching for his brother._

_"Dean, take my hand! I'll pull you up!"_

_Dean didn't move; he simply surveyed Sam's hands with a vauge interest in his eyes._

_"Dean!" Sam cried again desperately. "Dean, please! Please!"_

_He did not know why it was so terrible that Dean was down there. All he knew was that something bad was going to happen, and he had to do something. He had to save Dean. Without Dean he would fall apart...._

_Dean blinked, and his eyes turned silver. Long, delicate fangs slipped out of his jaw, and his hands curled into claw-like grips. Sam froze in horror, his mouth agape in disbelief. Dean grinned at him._

_"Take the plunge, Sammy," he said, taking a step backwards. Then he was stepping into the empty air and plummetting down, down, down, and somehow Sam was falling with him spiralling through slamming into the icy water so hard that his very skin seemed to rip away from his bones, his heart tore into peices and the demons in the water dived into his soul leaving inky black stains..._

Sam sat bolt upright, panting hard, his whole body shaking wildly. Sweat clung to his skin and clothes and the sleeping bag was tangled around his body. He fought free of it, gasping for air as if he had been winded and staggered to his feet, swaying giddily. He couldn't see Dean... where was Dean... where was _he..._

The ground suddenly rushed up towards him and white dots exploded in front of his vision. He flung out his hands automatically - and strong arms closed around his chest and dragged him upright again, holding him steady. Sam hung limply in the figure's grip, shakily forcing in deep breaths to clear his throbbing head.

"D-Dean?" he groaned.

"You want me to wake him?"

Sam's fumbling mind slowly took in that it was not Dean who had replied. He forced his eyes open and squinted through the dancing dots before his vision, managing to make out Opium standing just behind him, still supporting him. He looked down and saw Dean fast asleep on the sofa, his mouth hanging open, soft snores growling from his throat. Sam blinked slowly, trying to make sense of the images.

"Sam?"

Sam shook his head quickly and moaned as pain errupted in his head. Opium sighed irritably.

"C'mon," he muttered, and Sam felt himself being dragged backwards.

He would have struggled, but his head was hurting so much that he barely understood which direction he was going in. Opium suddenly deposited him in a chair and moved away. Sam cradelled his head in his hands, concentrating on breathing evenly. He vaugely recognized the sound of running water, and then a cup appeared before him.

"Thanks," he said weakly, reaching for it and taking a sip. "S'probably just... just my... head... concussion..."

Opium huffed and sat down opposite him, picking up his beer again. Sam took a few more gulps of water until the pain in his head reluctantly began to receed. He lowered the glass and looked up at Opium, suddenly embarressed. The vampire was pointedly avoiding his gaze. Sam wiped at the sweat on his forehead, suddenly aware of how terrible he must look.

"Sorry about that," he said hesitantly. "It was just a... a dream."

"Just a dream, huh?" Opium glanced at him with cool, silvery eyes. "Could have fooled me."

Sam flushed and looked away, biting his lip. More than anything he wanted to talk to someone about the twisted dreams that were destroying his sleep, but a cold-shouldered vampire was certainly not his first choice. He searched for a change of subject, and said the first thing that came into his head.

"So... how long have you been a fang?"

Opium regarded him icily, and Sam felt his insides shrink away. He quickly grabbed his cup and took another few gulps. He almost choked on it when Opium spoke - he had expected the vampire to remain silent until Sam gave up and went back to bed.

"I was a selfish, greedy fool."

Sam blinked at him owlishly. "Oh. That's..." he couldn't think of a decent response. "Why do you say that?" he asked at last.

Opium leaned forwards, resting his elbows on the table. He surveyed his bottle as he spoke, as if he was explaining his story to it rather than the person sat at the table with him.

"I've been a vampire for a thousand years. Vampires have been around as long as mankind, and ever since mankind arose there have been women who will sell their bodies." He trailed his finger around the rim of his bottle in a carefully controlled manner, although his voice was dark and cold as he spoke. "She was waiting near a bar. It was my friend's wedding night and we had all had far too much to drink. I can remember every single detail of her face in the candle light, burned into my memory. I asked her to leave with me, offered her a price, and she accepted readily. She even had a friend ready for my brother... It wasn't until later that we met her colony..."

His voice trailed off. Then he shook his head and flicked his bottle away with a sudden ferocity, sending it spinning across the table top. Sam watched him silently. He had never thought of it quite like that before.

"I'm sorry-"

"I don't want your pity," Opium snapped, rising sharply to his feet. "And for your information, I didn't need your help earlier at Lusing's nest either. Lusing would never actually kill me."

"Didn't look that way-"

"He's my brother," Opium hissed.

Sam stared at him. Now that he knew it, the sudden resembelence between the two vampires seemed startling. Sure they had different hair colour, but the same eyes, same jaw... and Lusing had even called him... what was it? _I have a little something to sort out with my dear brother here. _Sam wet his lips.

"But Lusing's killing people... we have to hunt him, Opium."

"I know," Opium growled. "The man I used to know is long gone. I tried to save him and failed. And if I can't save him from himself then..."

He broke off and shook his head. As if suddenly feeling he had said too much, revealed too much, he turned and strode over to the stairs. Sam watched until the vampire had climbed them and was out of sight. Then, slowly, he rose to his feet and made his way over to the sleeping bag to lie down again. He stared at Dean, the half light of the kitchen stealing across his brother's face.

_"He said I had to save you... and if I couldn't... he told me I'd have to kill you, Sammy."_

Sam lay in silence for a few moments, his brain too stunned with the coincidences to compute. Then he shut his eyes and was flung into the seat of the Impala once more, racing towards a Dean with vampire fangs and silvery eyes...

**Done! Sorry about the lack of updates with this story but I've been on holiday to Sweden. In between swimming with jellyfish, trekking through woods and screaming in themeparks I had no time to write! Please REVIEW!!**

**SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


	6. Bang Bang

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural... I just wish I did!**

**Thank you so much for the reviews!**

Sam awoke to find warm sunlight falling across his face through a crack in the curtains. He lay in the silence for a few minutes, caught in that limbo before he was fully awake, blinking slowly. He felt so very peaceful, as if he could just slip back into the darkness and lie there forever... although, despite the calm quiet, he couldn't help but feel that something was different. He rolled onto his back and crooked an arm lazily over his eyes. The sleeping bag did little to pad out the hard wooden floor, but he couldn't really find it in his heart to care that much right now. He wondered dimly what time it was...

And, all at once, he realized what was different. This was the first time in weeks that he had woken naturally, not clawed from sleep by a terrifying nightmare. For a few seconds he lay motionless, wondering if he was somehow having a nightmare right now, if he was wrong. But there were no screams, no flickering red eyes, just the gentle creak as the house settled around them. He sat up slowly, pushing his hair back off his forehead. He remembered the night before all too well. He looked quickly at Dean, but his brother was still asleep, one arm hanging off the sofa, his mouth hanging open. Sam turned his gaze to the kitchen table. It was deserted - Opium must have remained upstairs. Sam glanced down at his watch. Twenty past ten. They had even slept in.

He rose to his feet and made his way over to the bathroom in the corner, scooping up his duffel bag as he went. As he retrieved his toothbrush and began to brush his teeth, he studied his reflection in the mirror. He was looking much healthier than he had been over the last few days. The bags under his eyes had faded enough to almost be invisbile, and his skin was no longer that ill, paper-white. Sam spat into the sink and leant both hands on it, frowning. Maybe he should have heart-to-hearts with vampires more often... he changed and made his way back into the other room, where Dean was beginning to stir. He dropped his bag on the ground beside the sofa and ruffled Dean's hair in the way he knew his brother hated.

"Rise and shine, Dean."

"Muurrggnnn," Dean groaned, turning his face into the pillow.

Sam walked into the kitchen and got himself a glass of water. He didn't have a headache, but it was better to be safe than sorry. He drank most of it, leaving a little in the bottom of the glass, and then returned to Dean. Slowly, diliberately, he tilted the glass and deposited the last few drops of water on the back of Dean's neck.

Dean yelped and scrambled up onto his knees, slapping at the back of his neck. "Bugger off, Sam!" he yelled furiously, shivering as the water ran down his back.

Sam sniggered and moved away again to sit down at the table. Dean rose to his feet, still swearing under his breath and trying to dry the water before it could dribble all the way down his back. He looked at Sam, frowning slightly.

"You okay?" he asked, his tone suddenly changing. Sam grinned back at him.

"Never better."

"Huh," Dean muttered, his eyebrow arching.

Clearly he was surprised to find Sam so cheery and... awake. Shrugging, he rubbed both hands over his face.

"What did you get me up for?" he demanded, scowling.

"We've got a job to do," Sam replied. "We gotta find Gordon before he finds us."

"In broad daylight?"

"With vampires all over the city, I think broad daylight is our best bet right now."

Dean shook his head, but couldn't ignore the sense in Sam's point. Sighing, he reached for his bag and walked over to the bathroom, ruffling his hair with one hand as he went. Sam watched him go and then looked around, wondering where the food was in this house. Maybe he should ask Vicky anyway before helping himself to the contents of her cupboards.

As if on cue, Vicky suddenly appeared on the stairs, her short blonde hair spiked with gel. She reached the bottom of the steps and looked around, smiling as she met Sam's gaze.

"Hey. I looked in you guys earlier but you were still asleep. How long have you been up?"

"Not long," Sam replied. "Listen, thanks again for letting us stay here..."

"Its fine," she said, waving his words away. "Really. The way I see it, Opium and I need all the help we can get." She moved over to the fridge. "Fancy some breakfast? I think I have some bacon left over around here somewhere."

Sam nodded eagerly and got up to help her make the food. "Where's Opium?" he asked as she handed him a pan and began to peel strips of bacon from a plastic box.

"He always sleeps in late. The sun's brighter in the morning."

Sam nodded, understanding. By the time they had fried the bacon and scrambled some eggs to go with it, Dean had returned from the bathroom dressed in a grey t-shirt and jeans and was eyeing Vicky up again. Sam fought down the ache to kick his brother in the shins: getting the hots for a vampire's girlfriend was never going to end well. If Vicky noticed, however, she said nothing and kept her attention on her breakfast.

"So this hunter," she said at last, a few minutes into the meal. "Gordon Walker. Do you think you'll be able to find him?"

"Well, he's good at covering his tracks," Dean admitted through a mouthful of egg. "Its going to be hard to pin him down. But we'll find him."

"Is that the plan? Find him and drive him out?"

Sam shook his head. "No. We'll find him and then set the police on him, leave it to them to drive him out of town."

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Sorry, Vicky, but we're not going anywhere near Gordon Walker unless he's chained to an electric chair we have the remote to. He's got a price on Sam's head too, and he cares more about taking him down than hunting vampires."

"Is he really that dangerous?" Vicky asked. "I mean, it would be two against one."

Dean just shrugged. "Maybe. But I'm not taking chances where Sam's concerned."

Sam squirmed a little in his chair. Sometimes Dean's fierce over-protectiveness was a little embarrassing, even if it did comfort him to hear it. He opened his mouth to change the subject before his brother could say anything else, but at that moment Opium appeared on the stairs. He was wearing jeans and a shirt which was hanging open, clothes he had clearly just thrown on in a rush. He vaulted over the banister, landing neatly on his feet, and strode over to them. He was holding a mobile in his hand.

"Hey, vampy," Dean greeted him, grinning. "Little early to go out and dance in graveyards and drink bats blood, isn't it?"

Opium ignored it. He was looking at Vicky. He lifted his mobile, his eyes flashing with a strange kind of anger and intensity. "Lusing just called," he said softly. "He want's to meet."

Vicky rose to her feet, her eyebrows pulling together worriedly. "What for? He threw you out last night."

"He said he wanted to talk. Just him and I. Three o'clock at the old church."

Sam and Dean glanced at each other.

"He wants to meet in a _church?_" Dean repeated incredulously. "Why?"

Opium shook his head. "Doesn't matter." He paused, and then looked at Vicky once more. "I'm going."

"And you don't want me to come."

"After what happened last night..." he let his voice trail off. She sighed and then nodded.

"Fine. I'll stay here. But you have to promise to call me as soon as you finish."

Opium agreed. Dean cleared his throat, causing both vampire and human to look at him.

"We'll be coming along too then, Opium."

Opium frowned, but Sam spoke before he could say anything.

"Sorry, man, but Lusing's still on our most wanted list right now. We'll hang back, but just in case..."

The vampire hesitated a moment longer but then at a nudge from Vicky nodded. "Alright."

* * *

The church was ancient and overgrown, abandoned long ago by the genral public. Sam very much doubted if anyone in this city was even interested in religion. The building served now only as a reminder of the city used to be, what it would now never be again.

Dean drew up in the Impala outside, and the three men got out. Sharing a short glance, they moved as one towards the huge rotting wooden doors, currently hanging open. Inside, the church was made up of a huge empty space, the alter at the front rising up to be seen from any angle. Stone pillars reached up towards the roof, which was supporting large ragged holes as if it had been bombed. The pews still stood in their calm, orderly lines, one or two knocked on their sides. A huge silver cross rose up before the alter, complete with the skinny Jesus figurine hanging from its arms. Dead leaves blew across the floor and ivy climbed the walls and pillars, reaching across the building like fingers trying to drag it into the ground.

Lusing was sitting in the front pews, his head bowed, his hands clasped in his lap. He stood up as they approached, and Sam and Dean stopped a few rows back, allowing Opium to continue alone. From their position, guns held ready at their sides, they could hear the soft words the vampires exchanged.

"Still in league with the hunters, Opium?" Lusing asked, his voice bearing only the ghost of the laughing sarcasm it had held the night before.

"You know as well as I do why they're here," Opium replied. "But for what its worth, I didn't tell them where the colony was staying. They came alone."

"Yeah, I know." Lusing shifted along the pew, opening up a space for Opium to join him, but Opium remained standing. Lusing didn't seem surprised at the rejection. Instead, he rested his feet on the pew in front of him and folded his arms on his knees, running his tongue over his lips before he spoke again. "About what I said last night... I'd drunk a lot of blood. I was a little wild..."

Opium snorted.

"... but that doesn't effect the truth of what I said. You can't run from what you are forever."

"I'm not running," Opium snapped back. "I'm evolving. You will always be hunted because of what you do. I can finally start a life again."

"You honestly think this will work?"

Opium nodded. Lusing stared at the alter, his eyes blank and unfocused.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe this is the only way to survive."

"Then you'll join me?"

Lusing let out a short bark of laughter and shook his head. "No." He looked up at Opium, meeting his gaze properly for the first time, and smiled sadly. "You were always the strongest one out of the two of us. You survive. Me, I'll just carry on killing, and laughing every step of the way."

"You're signing your own death sentence," Opium growled, his voice verging on fustration.

"At least I'm not pretending to be something I'm not." Lusing rose slowly to his feet and moved out into the asile, clapping Opium on the shoulder. Sam watched as Opium's face took on a whole new expression, but not one he had been expecting. Was that fear? Confusion?

"I'm sorry," Lusing murmured.

"What did you do?" Opium's voice rang suddenly clear and loud. He pulled free of Lusing's grasp. "Lusing, what did you do?"

Lusing opened his mouth to reply - and an arrow appeared out of nowhere and slammed into Opium's shoulder, sending the vampire stumbling backwards against a pillar and pinning him there. Sam let out a shout, Dean span around, lifting his gun. Gordon stepped out of the shadows, lifting his crossbow in one hand and his gun in the other. Lusing was backing towards the side door behind the alter. Opium, clawing at the arrow in his shoulder, let out an animal roar of fury.

"_Lusing!_"

"I'm sorry, bro," Lusing repeated. "All he wants is the Winchesters. He threatened the colony. I had to do it." He took one final look at Gordon, and then turned and ran.

Sam and Dean were both facing Gordon, weapons raised. The hunter stepped towards them, smirking.

"I'm sensing a pattern here. You guys keep getting between me and the monsters I hunt."

"They're not all evil," Sam snarled back. "We can't condem people who aren't evil!"

"These _things _aren't people!" Gordon spat. "And neither are you."

Sam just had enough time to see Gordon lift his gun before the gunshot went off. He ducked too late - a screaming pain errupted in his shoulder and he tumbled to the floor, letting out a harsh yell of agony. He could dimly hear Dean shouting, heard a second gunshot roar through the church. Sam forced in a few deep breaths, trying to control himself, and then weakly rolled onto his stomach. His shoulder was throbbing agonizingly, blood pumping out of the bullet wound. He clasped his hand over it, doing his best to staunch the bleeding, and then lifted his head to look for Opium. If he could just get to the vampire and free him, they would have the upper hand over Gordon... Sam frowned and looked around.

Opium was gone.

Sam rose shakily to his hands and knees looking around, but there was no sign of the vampire. Had he freed himself and run? No, Opium wouldn't have abandoned them... a chill ran down Sam's spine. What if Gordon wasn't working alone? What if someone was helping him? Sam scrambled up to his feet, his head spinning, and turned to look for Dean. Dean was locked in a struggle with Gordon, his gun lying on the floor a few meters away. One hand was forcing Gordon's gun hand backwards, the other was clutching at the other man's collar. Gordon was straining against him, his teeth bared with fury.

"Dean!"

Dean turned his head at Sam's shout - and Gordon brought his knee up and kicked the Winchester hard in the stomach. Dean stumbled backwards, gasping, his arms wrapped over his stomach. Gordon lifted his gun... and his mobile rang. As the hunter paused, Sam ran to Dean and pulled his brother upright.

"Dean, you okay?"

Dean nodded, breathing hard through clenched teeth. They both turned their attention to Gordon, who was looking at a text he had just recieved. He grinned and looked up at them, his eyes dancing.

"That was a friend of mine. Amy."

"Do we give a crap?" Dean hissed breathlessly.

"I should think so," Gordon replied. "Because she's just evacuated the premesis of all vampires."

Dean looked around, noticing Opium's absense for the first time. He swore loudly.

"Gordon! Where is he?" he demanded, striding forwards.

Gordon lifted his gun at once, a warning. "Far gone by now," he said. "Of course I might be willing to negotiate..."

Sam felt a cold fist close around his heart. This was going to go very, very wrong. He wet his lips, glancing quickly at Dean, one hand still closed over his shoulder. His brother had moved in front of him a little, as if reading Gordon's mind.

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked coldly.

"I think you know," Gordon replied softly. "Sammy the demonic prodigy for the vegitarian vampire. Your choice." He glanced at his watch. "Call me when you've decided on who you want to save. I wouldn't take too much time over it. There are a couple of questions I'll be asking the fang..."

"Touch him and I'll tear you apart!" Sam spat, his free hand balling into a fist.

"You're an idiot, Gordon," Dean growled. "There's no way we're letting you leave here alive."

"Beg to differ," Gordon replied, and without warning his gun swung around.

"SAM, MOVE!"

Dean slammed into Sam, carrying them both to the ground as the gunshot went off. Sam let out another scream of pain as he landed on his injured shoulder, his vision blotted out by the agony. He had a vauge memory of someone shouting his name, hands shaking him roughly. Then the pain became too much to bear and he succumed to the darkness.

**Good or bad? I'm really interested to see what you guys think of this story. Where do you think the story will head next? I can tell you that there's going to be an unexpected helper in the next few chapters... please REVIEW!**

**SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


	7. War Wounds

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural... I just wish I did!**

**Thank you so much for the reviews!**

"Its okay, Sammy, its all gonna be fine." Dean let go of the steering wheel and reached across to his brother, closing his hand over Sam's own fist which was holding Dean's overshirt against his wound. Dean pressed Sam's hand down harder, and Sam groaned.

"Sorry, man," Dean said, not moving his hand. "Gotta stop that bleeding."

Sam squeezed his eyes shut tightly, restricting his reply to a short nod. He was worried that if he spoke his voice would come out as a croak. Instead, he kept his mouth shut. Dean increased his pressure and Sam let out a yelp, swatting Dean's hand away.

"Sorry, Sam, sorry!" Dean said hastily. His eyes flickered anxiously between the road and the growing red stain on Sam's jacket shoulder.

After Sam had passed out in the church, Dean had panicked. Suddenly he didn't care about chasing Gordon and helping Opium, he only needed Sam to wake up. The pain must have driven his brother into unconsciousness. Dean had crouched over him, shaking him and calling his name for a full ten minutes before Sam had begun to stir. It was only then that Dean had remembered himself and finally thought to strip off his overshirt and press it against the flow of blood. It had then been another ten minutes before Sam had become fully conscious, and another ten before Dean could get him on his feet and support him out of the church.

By the time they finally reached Vicky's house, the bleeding was beginning to slow. Dean scrambled out of the car and raced around to Sam's side to open the door for him, reaching down to help him up. He wrapped an arm around Sam's waist, taking most of his weight as they made their slow way towards the door. Vicky opened it before they got there and came striding out to meet them.

"What happened?" she demanded, her eyes widening as she caught sight of the blood staining Sam's jacket. "Oh god... have you been _shot?_"

"Just a little bit," Sam said faintly, wincing.

Vicky stared at Dean. "Lusing...?"

"No," Dean replied grimly, moving past her with Sam. "Gordon."

_"Gordon!?"_

Dean eased Sam down on the sofa and then dived for his duffel bag. He pulled out their first aid kit and returned to Sam, who was gingerly pulling off his shirt, gasping with pain as he did so. Dean swiftly soaked a swab with alcohol and pressed it to Sam's shoulder. Vicky had followed them slowly into the house and was standing before them, her arms tightly folded in front of her. For a few moments there was silence. When Vicky finally spoke, her voice sounded small.

"Where's... where's Opium?"

Sam looked up quickly, his pale face suddenly taught. Dean wet his lips and then spoke, keeping his tone steady.

"We couldn't save him. My guess is Gordon... well, he said he wanted to ask some questions but knowing him..." his voice trailed off. "I'm sorry, Vicky."

The blood drained from Vicky's face as she stared at him. She swallowed hard, searching for words, but none came out. Dean quickly turned his attention to Sam's shoulder. It was a small wound - probably only need two or three stitches.

"Find your happy place, Sam," he muttered, reaching for the needle.

Sam shut his eyes. Vicky was now gazing at the floor, her jaw working hard. Her mouth opened, and then closed again.

"Maybe... maybe its not too late," she whispered.

Dean didn't reply. He tied off the first stitch and started on the next. Vicky pressed a hand to her mouth and then moved quickly over to the table and sat down. Dean tried to pretend he couldn't hear the first of her quiet sobs and concentrated on Sam.

"Dean," Sam murmured. "We have to do something..."

"Like what?" Dean demanded under his breath. "You know as well as I do that Gordon probably killed Opium as soon as he had the chance, or whoever was helping him did. There's nothing we can do."

"We don't know that for sure! Dean, we have to _try..."_

"You've just been shot, Sam!" Dean hissed back. "We're not going anywhere until you can stand up without fainting like sleeping beauty."

Sam scowled at him. Dean carefully taped gauze over the wound, checking it was secure before finally taking his hands away. Sam opened his mouth, clearly ready to argue more, but was cut off as Dean's mobile suddenly began to ring. Dean frowned and pulled it out, glancing at the caller ID. He didn't recognize the number. He looked at Sam, and then answered the call.

"Hello?"

"Dean."

Dean's eyes narrowed. _Gordon. _He shot a meaningful glance at Sam. "How'd you get this number?"

"I got my ways," Gordon replied.

"Put him on loudspeaker," Sam said.

Dean hesitated, but then nodded and switched his mobile to loudspeaker. Gordon's voice filled the room. Vicky went quiet and then made her way over to them, standing behind the sofa with her arms folded tightly.

"That you, Sam? How's that bullet feeling?"

Sam scowled. "Where's Opium, Gordon? Spit it out."

Gordon chuckled. "Right next to me, actually. Him and I have been having a chat, right fang? Wanna talk to him?"

Sam and Dean exchanged warning looks. This definately was not headed anywhere good. Vicky sucked in a sharp gasp as Opium's voice suddenly came on. It had lost its quiet, sullen tone and had taken on an almost desperate edge.

"Listen, guys, whatever you do don't - AAARRRGGHH!"

He broke off with a sudden scream of pain, and Vicky lunged towards the mobile as if she could somehow help him.

"Opium!"

The scream cut off abruptly and Gordon's voice returned.

"I tried to tell him not to say anything important but those fangs are all the same. Think they're too good to listen to lowlifes like us, hmm?"

The last part was obviously directed at Opium, and Dean heard a venomous snarl in the background. Dean balled his hands into fists, feeling a sudden flare of anger.

"Why are you doing this, Gordon?" he demanded. "What do you want?"

"C'mon, Dean, don't play dumb. You already know what I want. Sam for the vampire."

Silence. Vicky's hands were gripping the back of the sofa tightly, her eyes suddenly fixed on Sam. Dean kept his gaze on his brother, trying to think of something to say. He would have told Gordon to stuff it, but Vicky was with them. And Vicky cared for Opium a whole lot more than he, Dean, ever would.

"I'll give you guys three hours to chew it over. Then I'll call again... I'll expect an answer."

Gordon hung up. Dean slowly reached down and switched off his mobile, his mouth suddenly dry. The silence seemed to grow louder and louder until it was almost deafening. Finally, Vicky cleared her throat.

"What are we going to do?"

"We can't give them Sam," Dean said quietly, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Vicky, but we just can't."

"Then what are we going to do?" she repeated, her voice growing slightly shrill. "I'm not just going to leave him to die!"

"And neither are we," Sam said suddenly. It was the first thing he had said since Gordon had called. He returned Dean and Vicky's gazes steadily, his mouth set. "Once vampires get your scent, its for life, isn't it?"

"Yes," Vicky said. "What does that matter?"

"I was just thinking... can vampires smell out other vampires?"

* * *

For someone who was now on the run from hunters, Lusing was surprisingly easy to find. He was sitting in the same bar where Sam and Dean had first seen him, hunched over a beer in the corner of the muggy, smokey room, his dirty blonde hair straggling around his face. Dean felt for his gun and started forwards, but Sam threw out a hand to stop him.

"No. You wait back here."

Dean shot him a disbelieving glance. "Sam, you gotta be kidding me..."

"Please, Dean," Sam said. "Let me handle this one."

Dean sighed heavily but then nodded and leant back against the wall. Sam could feel his brother's eyes on the back of his neck as he made his way across the room to where Lusing was sitting. The vampire glanced at him as he sat down, and then growled in the back of his throat and looked back at his drink.

"Cut me a break, hunter, I've just betrayed my only brother to your kind."

"Gordon Walker is _not _our kind," Sam said, sitting down opposite him. "And I'm not here to lope your head off. I just want to talk."

Lusing sniggered. For a moment, he reminded Sam bizzarely of his own brother - the smirking, sullen bravado to hide the breakdown threatening to take over.

"Fine," Lusing muttered. "Talk. Just don't expect me to listen."

Sam leant forwards on the table, staring intently at the vampire. Lusing shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, his fingers tightening on his glass as if he wanted to throw it in Sam's face.

"Why would you do that to Opium?" Sam asked softly. "I mean, sure, he dissapointed you. You guys didn't get along. But that's hardly a good reason to hand him over to a blood-thirsty vampire hunter, is it? He's still your brother..."

"Yeah, he is," Lusing snapped, his voice rising sharply. "You think I wanted any of this? I had no choice. My first priority is to protect the colony. Gordon threatened it. I had to give him what he wanted."

"Only, you didn't," Sam said. "Gordon's happy to exchange Opium's life for mine."

Lusing looked at him, his eyes flashing angrily. "Well, how about you go ahead and hand yourself over if you care so much? Why're you coming crying to me?"

"Because," Sam replied, "If I know Gordon, he's going to get everything he can out of Opium before we agree to anything. He'll want to know where your colony is. And I can bet you anything, after he's killed me, he'll be coming straight after the rest of you."

"Opium wouldn't tell him anything."

"Yeah, well, Gordon can be very persuasive."

Lusing flinched slightly at the word and then burried his head in his hands, clutching at his hair. "What do you want me to do?" he mumbled. "This is Gordon Walker... there are only four of us left in the colony for christ's sake..."

"Either way," Sam said. "Its still your brother who's suffering here. I'm just giving you a chance to help him. Take it or leave it."

He waited. Lusing didn't move, his face still hidden by his hair. Sam sighed heavily and rose to his feet.

"Fine. Leave him to die, then. Its time we skipped town anyway."

He turned and began to move away. He managed about three steps before Lusing leapt to his feet, his voice ringing through the bar.

"Wait... wait!"

Sam met Dean's gaze and smiled. Then he turned around and returned to the table, Dean striding over to join them.

Now they could finally get somewhere.

**Please REVIEW!**

**SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


	8. Rescue?

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural... I just wish I did!**

**Reviews are cookies! Thanks so much!**

Gordon didn't call until the next morning.

Dean made a dive for the mobile as soon as it began to ring, scooping it up before Sam could reach it and putting it to his ear. Across from him, Vicky stood up quickly, running both hands through her hair in anxiety.

"What happened to 'I'll call in three hours,' Gordon?" Dean demanded furiously.

Gordon laughed. "Sorry to keep you waiting, Dean," he said. "I got busy."

Dean swallowed hard. He could imagine exactly what 'busy' meant. He kept his eyes on the ground, glad that he hadn't put his mobile on loudspeaker again. Still, as he asked his next question he could practically feel the air in the room thicken with fear.

"Is he still alive?"

"Wait, let me check..."

Dean scowled furiously. "You're a sadistic bastard, you know that?"

Gordon laughed again. "Yeah, he's alive," he replied flippantly. "Have you thought any more about what I said last night?"

Dean paused. "I... look, Gordon, you can't ask us to make that choice. We need to at least talk face to face."

Gordon hesitated. Dean shut his eyes, fearing he'd blown it, but then Gordon spoke again.

"Fine. Tomorrow, midday at our pals old nest."

"Tomorrow?" Dean repeated. "Why not today?"

"I don't think so... Amy and I are rather enjoying Opium's stay with us."

"Gordon-"

Gordon hung up. Dean sighed heavily and lowered the mobile. Sam and Vicky leapt on him within a second.

"Well? What did he say?"

"Is Opium okay? Did Gordon let him say anything?"

Dean turned to face them, shaking his head. "Didn't hear from him. Gordon's agreed to meet tomorrow face to face, but I couldn't get him to meet sooner."

Sam shook his head. "Then Lusing's our best hope for now. I haven't heard from him since last night."

"I don't know, Sam," Dean muttered. "The guy turned his own brother over to a hunter. What makes you think we can trust him?"

Sam just shrugged. Vicky spoke suddenly, her voice wavering.

"What... what's Gordon doing to him?"

Sam and Dean exchaned a short glance. Sam spoke first.

"Look, Vicky, we're going to get him back. We're going to fix this, you hear me?"

She just looked away.

* * *

Afternoon came and went, dissolving slowly into evening. Sam, Dean and Vicky had nothing to do but wait. Dean alternated between pacing, messing about with his guns and muttering about how things would almost definately work out before adding an 'unless.' Vicky was worse. She spent most of her time just sitting at the table, her eyes continuously red with unshed tears, her hands picking at the tabletop. Sam sat on the sofa, trying to think of something to say that would help. Trying and failing...

His mobile suddenly rang and he picked it up, looking at the ID. He glanced meaningfully at Dean and Vicky, who were watching him, and then answered.

"Lusing," he said. "Tell me you've got something."

"I've found him."

Lusing's voice was slightly breathless, as if he had been running. Sam could hear the emotions he was struggling to hold back hovering in his voice. He was surprised the vampire hadn't just charged in without bothering to call at all.

"You're sure?"

"I know the scent of my own brother, Winchester. Gordon was trying to mask it but we found it... eventually."

Sam felt a small smile flicker across his face. He knew Lusing and his colony had been out all day searching. The vampire wouldn't have called unless he was sure.

"Okay. What's the address?" He scribbled it down on the back of his hand as Lusing said it. "We're on our way now. And remember, don't do anything until we get there, alright?"

Lusing grunted and then hung up. Sam rose to his feet, and without so much as a word between them the three of them headed for the door.

They had been planning this all day. Sam and Dean would go on ahead and meet up with the vampires, then close in around Gordon's place and cut off any escape routes. Vicky would follow at a distance. As soon as they got clear with Opium, Vicky would pick him up in her car and get him away from the area while the others finished with Gordon. They had no idea what Gordon would be expecting, or what kind of protection he had, and so their plan was irritably restricted. Dean hated it when they had to just fire in the dark like this. It was clear from his tense, anxious silence, the way he shoved the Impala into gear and roared off into the road as fast as he could.

The address Lusing had given them was in a neighbourhood on the edge of town. Dean drove fast, and the journey there was uncomfortably silent. Sam bit his lip, and then broke the quiet as they neared the area.

"Dean... we can take Gordon."

Dean ran his tongue over his lips. "I know. With the vampire colony behind us we'll be able to do it..." he paused. "Sam... I don't want you going anywhere near Gordon."

Sam sighed heavily. He'd been afraid of this. "Dean, I'm not just going to sit back and watch. You can't just cut me out of this-"

"I'm not going to," Dean interrupted. "But I don't want you fighting him, okay? Leave that to the vampires. When we get there, the vampires and I will draw Gordon out. Then - and only then - you go in and get Opium, and then get off the scene with Vicky. Got it?"

"Dean-"

"I promise I'll follow you straight after I see you get clear. Sammy, please," Dean added.

Sam caved at the use of his nickname. He sighed again, and then nodded. "Fine. I'll do it, alright?"

Dean didn't say anything. The gentle purr of the Impala seemed hushed as Dean urged her along the dark, deserted streets of the neighborhood. Sam, already armed with a two large knives attatched to his belt, began to fiddle nervously with his gun. He needed to keep it together for Dean, otherwise his brother would probably restrain him from joining the fight at all. He fixed his gaze on the houses slipping past him. Suddenly, his mobile went off again and he reached for it.

"Hello?"

"We can see you. Pull over."

The call disconected at once, but not before Sam recognized Lusing's voice. He relayed the order to Dean, who smoothly pulled over and parked the Impala on the side of the road. As they stepped out of the car, Lusing appeared in the gap between two of the houses on the opposite side of the road. The Winchesters made their way over to him. Three vampires stood behind him, apparently all that was left of the colony now. They were eyeing the brothers hopefully, running their tongues over their pearly fangs, but said nothing.

"Took your time," Lusing growled. "Do you even have a plan?"

Dean scowled at him. "Course we do. We'll draw Gordon out of the house while Sam gets in and finds Opium."

Lusing frowned. "Gordon's not that stupid. He won't leave Opium alone. He's got someone else working with him now, some Amy girl."

"I can deal with her," Sam said. "You just concentrate on your job."

Lusing's lip curled, but he didn't object again. Instead, he simply turned away and strode into the darkness of the tiny walkway running between the houses, his colony beside him. Sam and Dean exchanged a glance and then followed. It was clear that Dean was uncomfortable about working with Lusing, especially since the vampire had already double crossed his own brother. But they had no other choice.

Desperate times called for desperate measures.

The walkway opened out onto another road. Directly opposite them was a house set slightly apart from the others, and with only one floor. There was no car parked outside, no sign of life at all but for a light on in a room near the back of the house.

"Where's Gordon?" Dean asked under his breath.

"We don't know," Lusing replied. "I don't think he's in the house."

Sam and Dean glanced at each other. This complicated things. Sam knew Dean would prefer not to go in unless he knew exactly where his enemey was.

"Well," he said. "No time like the present."

Dean looked at him. "Go for it?"

Sam nodded. "We might even get this over with before he comes back."

He doubted their luck would hold that long, but they had to try. Dean was still looking at him, his mouth slightly open as if all the fear in his head was about to spill out... but he made no sound. Sam touched his shoulder.

"I know," he said. "I'll be careful."

Without waiting another second, Sam stepped out of the shadows and raced across the road, reaching the house in a matter of moments. He reached the building and dived around the corner, pressing himself back against the wall.

He barely got there in time.

Even as he dropped down in the darkness at the side of the house, a car roared around the corner. Sam froze, his back flat against the cool bricks, holding his breath. The car stopped in front of the house, and Gordon stepped out of it. Sam's heart jerked in panic - all Gordon had to do was look up, and he would see him. But Gordon seemed far more interested in the carrier bag he was holding than the house. He was picking through it, as if worried that he had forgotten something. He reached the house and unlocked the door, pushing his way inside. Sam forced himself to remain still, his eyes tighty shut, his hands curled into fists at his sides. The light came on in the window directly above him and he suppressed a flinch. He waited... nothing happened.

He couldn't just sit here forever. He counted to thirty, and then slowly rose up on his knees and peered in through the window. He was looking into a kitchen. It was empty. Sam took a deep breath. Then he slid his knife into the join between the glass and the sill and jiggled it to the left. The catch clicked upwards and he slid the window open. He climbed inside as quietly as he could and landed on the balls of his feet on the kitchen floor, his heart pounding in his ears. He shut the window and then looked around. He was inside. Silently, Sam made his way over to the door and pressed himself against the wall beside it, waiting for a few moments before cautiously leaning out. The corridor beyond was deserted. Three doors led off from it, excusing the front door: two in the opposite wall and one in the back. It was the third door that caught Sam's attention. It had been fitted with several locks and bolts, all of which were currently undone. There was no noise from the other two rooms, and Sam was ready to bet his life that Gordon was behind door number three.

He was just about to move forwards and listen at the door when the screams began. Sam froze, recognizing Opium's voice at once. Scream after scream echoed from the door, and Sam clutched at the wall behind him in a desperate bid to make himself stay still. He couldn't just burst in, he had to wait for Dean. Otherwise he would be outnumbered... another scream, and then a sudden, unbearable silence. Sam strained his ears for something, anything... footsteps.

Sam cursed and threw himself into the room on his left, pushing the door shut but leaving a crack for him to look through. The door opened and Gordon reappeared, wiping at the blood on his hands. He made his way into the kitchen and Sam heard the sound of a tap running. The kitchen door swung shut behind him.

Sam couldn't bear to wait any longer.

He scrambled out of the room and made for the door, pulling it open cautiously. It made no noise. He could see a set of stone steps leading downwards. He stepped forwards cautiously, shutting the door behind him. He began to move down the steps, staring around the room. Flickering lights sent demonic shadows dancing over the walls, and the very air seemed to drip with fear and despair. Water ran down the walls from a leak somewhere higher up in the building. The smell of blood and sweat hung over everything like a curse. The room - well, basement - was large and square, with a work surface spreading along one wall complete with an assortment of weapons. A device remarkably like a dentist's chair stood in the centre of the room, a small table standing beside it and a large light above. The chair was currently occupied.

_Holy shit..._

Opium looked as if he should be dead. His eyes were squeezed shut in agony and his hands clutched at the arms of the chair so tightly that his knuckles stood out white against his pale skin. A pentagram had been carved into his chest, dripping thick, dark blood down onto the floor. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth and several other deep gashes marking his arms. Every so often the vampire's veins seemed to pulse, arching against his skin like black spiderwebs. Sam's stomach lurched at the sight of him. _Why, why, why didn't we get here sooner? _he screamed at himself.

There was a woman - Amy, he supposed - standing beside Opium. As Sam reached the bottom of the stairs, she suddenly spoke.

"I wish you would tell him," she said, almost to herself. "These Winchesters are hunters too, aren't they? What possible reason could you have for protecting them?"

Opium's eyes flickered open suddenly, reflecting the light so that they appeared to glow slightly in the darkness. Sam moved forwards silently, pulling his gun from his pocket. Opium's chest heaved slightly as he glared at Amy. His eyes slid away from her - and found Sam. Sam offered him a quick smile as he reached Amy, standing directly behind her. If she hadn't been so engrossed in Opium, she surely would have noticed him by now. She suddenly grew rigid, and Sam darted forwards, closing his hand over her mouth.

"Its a little something called loyalty," he snapped. His voice shook with hatred and disgust. "I wouldn't expect you to understand."

He brought the butt of his gun down hard on the back of her head and she slumped to the ground, unconscious. Sam stepped over her lifeless form and reached down to grip Opium's shoulder. The vampire blinked at him, his eyes glazed and unfocussed with pain.

"Hey, man," Sam said softly, putting his gun down. "Don't worry: I'm getting you out of here."

He began to pull off the cuffs on the arms of the chair. Opium made no move to get up, not even when Sam had finished.

"C'mon, Opium," Sam said, shaking his shoulder as gently as he could. "We gotta go. Hey!"

Opium moaned weakly. Sam hesitated and then slipped his arm behind the vampire's back and pulled him up into a sitting position. Opium gasped with pain, his fangs suddenly forcing their way from his jaw. Sam almost let go, but forced himself to remain in position. He quickly shrugged off his jacket and pulled it onto the vampire.

"You're bleeding pretty badly," Sam muttered, trying to take his attention off Opium's glistening fangs. God, when was the last time the vampire had fed? Sam did not want to turn this rescue mission into dinner for one. He pulled at the vampire's arm. "Opium, man, we have to leave. The others can only hold Gordon off for so long. You need to start moving, okay?"

Opium was staring into space, his mouth hanging open, his fangs huge and terrifying. He took a few shuddering breaths. Sam glanced down at Amy, wondering how long it would be before she woke up. Long enough for them to get out? Hopefully. Opium suddenly nodded.

"K-Kay," he rasped.

Sam relaxed, relieved to have been given a response however short it was. Opium pulled himself towards the edge of the chair, and Sam eased him down from it as gently as he could. He could still see the agony written all over Opium's rigid form.

"We're just going to go straight up the stairs and straight outta the house, okay?" Sam told him, pulling an arm over his shoulder to support him.

Opium leant heavily on him, barely supporting his own weight at all. Sam's anxiety was growing rapidly. It was becomming painfully obvious that Opium was in a much worse state than any of them had expected. If he couldn't even stand up alone, it was going to be much harder to get him out without Gordon noticing. Sam tried to push the traitorous thoughts away. He just had to keep going here. They made their slow way up the stairs and out into the corridor beyond. The front door was hanging open, shouts and yells errupting from the road outside. Sam decided to go out through the kitchen again. It would be harder, but hopefully that meant that they would remain out of sight.

He led them into the kitchen and over to the window. He pulled it open again and looked at Opium.

"Maybe you should go first. I'll help you through and then follow after, okay?"

Blood was trickling from Opium's lips, dripping onto the floor. The vampire gave a small jerk of his head that could have been a nod or a denial. Sam stepped forwards - and the kitchen door banged open. Sam whirled around, still clutching Opium.

Gordon stood in the doorway, blood caking the side of his head. He teeth were bared in fury, and his hands were shaking. Before Sam could even speak, Gordon lifted his gun and took aim, his eyes filled with a murderous hatred which clearly told Sam what was going to happen next.

_Dean!_

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	9. Murder

**Sorry I uploaded the wrong chapter by mistake before! This is the next chapter... sorry!**

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**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural... I just wish I did!**

**Thank you for the reviews!**

It was the worst five minutes of Dean's life.

He figdetted and jittered in the darkness of the alleyway, his eyes fixed on the house, his hand straying towards his mobile every few moments. As if he could even call Sam - doing so might put his brother in danger. He had to give him at least five minutes. Five minutes. Then he could go in. He could tell that Lusing and the other vampires were getting extremely irritated with him, but he didn't care. The vampires could stuff it. All Dean cared about was getting Sam out of there as soon as possible. If only he could somehow see what was going on...

He checked his watch. Four minutes gone, one to go.

"Remember," he said quietly to Lusing. "We just need to keep Gordon busy. If you can kill him go ahead but the main point is-"

"To keep him busy, we know!" Lusing snapped back.

Dean scowled. "Just make sure you do," he muttered.

He glanced at his watch again. Only thirty seconds left. Enough waiting. He pulled his gun from his jacket and strode out of the alleyway. Lusing fell into step beside him, the three other vampires spreading out behind them. Dean swallowed hard. _Its five against one, _he reminded himself. _Five against one. We can do this. _They reached the house. Dean took a deep breath and stepped up to the door, rapping sharply on it with his knuckles. He heard footsteps, the sound of a bolt being drawn back, and then the door swung open. Gordon's eyes widened with surprise as he took in Dean, and then the vampires.

"What the-"

"Save it," Dean growled, and he lifted his gun. Gordon knocked his hand down, lurching forwards to hit him in the face - and chaos rushed in on them.

Dean stumbled backwards as Gordon's fist hit him in the face. The hunter didn't pause for a second - he grabbed a machette that had been hung somewhere near the door and sprinted out of the house, swiping at the nearest vampire. As Dean recovered and stepped forwards, Gordon lifted the machette high and brought it down on the neck of one of the other vampires. The headless body jerked for a few moments and then fell to the ground.

Silence fell.

Lusing and the other two vampires stared down at the corpse of their companion, frozen in horror. Gordon kicked the head aside and lifted the machette again, running his tongue over his lips.

"Who's next then?" he demanded. "Come on, fangs. Who's next?"

The vampires looked quickly at one another. The uncertainty in their gazes sent a jolt of panic through Dean, and he stepped forwards.

"Hey, c'mon," he cried, looking from one vampire to the next. "We can do this!"

Lusing was staring at the corpse, his mouth hanging open slightly. Then, suddenly, he shook his head. "Go," he whispered hoarsely.

The two vampires beside him didn't wait to be told twice; they turned and sprinted into the darkness, vanishing in seconds. Lusing stepped backwards, lifting his hands.

"Lusing!" Dean yelled, fury racing through him. "You bloody traitor!"

Lusing shot him a panicked glance. "I found you Opium," he mumbled. "Don't ask me to die for you too."

He turned away and followed his colony at a run. Dean whirled to face Gordon, who was lifting the machette again.

"Well, Dean? Where's ickle Sammy? Looks like you could do with some backup."

Dean glared at him, lifting his gun again. "_Sam _isn't here. You really think I'd let him come within a mile of you?"

Gordon shook his head. "Poor Dean, so predictable. Of course Sam's here. My guess is he's snuck to rescue our fanged friend while you keep me distracted. Am I right?"

Dean forced a laugh. It sounded high and scared, not at all as he would have hoped. "No."

Gordon sighed in mock despair. "I guess after I kill you, I'll have to go and find Sammy. And don't worry... I'll be very careful to kill him properly this time."

Dean swung his gun up again, and Gordon's machette whistled towards his hand. He leapt out of the way just in time, but the tip of the blade nicked his wrist and he dropped the gun, gasping in pain. Gordon was on him in a second, machette pulled back to attack. Dean grabbed the hunter's arm and forced it upwards, bringing his knee up into his stomach at the same time. Gordon let go of his weapon but even as Dean drew back his hand to hit the man in the face, Gordon threw himself forwards and carried them both to the ground. He hit Dean once, twice; Dean felt his lip split, felt blood dribbling into one eye. Gordon fastened his hands around Dean's neck and suddenly the air vanished. Dean gasped for breath, struggling desperately.

"Its a real shame it had to come to this, Dean," Gordon said through clenched teeth. "I did like you, Dean. But you've let yourself be blinded by Sam. You're not a hunter anymore."

Dean turned his head. His gun was lying nearby. He flung out his hand, his fingertips brushing the smooth handle. Black dots danced before his eyes and he choked, darkness opening up to claim him - and his hand closed over his gun. There was no time to aim. Instead, he just brought the gun up as fast as he could. It connected with Gordon's skull and the hands around his neck vanished as the hunter cried out in pain. Dean sucked in a huge gulp of air, scrambling up on his knees and swaying, trying to get a grip on himself again. Gordon rose unsteadily to his feet and Dean felt a rush of satisfaction to see blood coursing down the side of his face from a wound on his head. He lifted his gun, but his vision was still swamped with black and he couldn't aim. Gordon reached him easily and wrenched the gun from his hand, and then returned the favour. Brilliant white exploded before Dean's eyes as the butt of the gun connected with his face, and he felt warm blood on his cheekbone. Gordon's voice floated through the fog.

"You're brother's evil, Dean. If you won't do something to stop him, then _I will."_

Dean forced his eyes open panting hard as if he had just run a race. He rolled his head to the side, horribly aware of the thick liquid running down his face. Through his wavering vision he could just see Gordon vanishing through the doorway of the house.

_No..._

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_(And back to where the last chapter ended... :D)_

_Sam stepped forwards - and the kitchen door banged open. Sam whirled around, still clutching Opium. Gordon stood in the doorway, blood caking the side of his head. His teeth were bared in fury and his hands were shaking. Before Sam could even speak, Gordon lifted his gun and took aim, his eyes filled with a murderous hatred which clearly told Sam what was going to happen next._

Sam moved instantly. As the gunshot snapped through the air like a whip crack, Sam threw himself and Opium to the floor. The vampire curled into a ball, hissing with agony. A sharp pain stung the side of Sam's face and for a moment he thought that he must have been too late, that Gordon's bullet had found its mark. And then, as he landed on the floor and scrambled up to his knees, he realized that the bullet had actually clipped the side of his head. It had actually been that close... he forced himself not to think about it as he rose to his feet. Gordon was aiming again. Sam sprinted forwards and grabbed his wrist, forcing it upwards so that the bullet flew over his head and hit the ceiling instead.

"End of the line, Sam," Gordon snarled, practically spitting with rage. "You're not hurting anyone else."

"Neither are you!" Sam replied heatedly.

He was the same height as Gordon, and they were almost evenly matched in strength. They struggled against one another, caught in balance.

"Been here before," Gordon hissed.

The memory of Lenore hit Sam hard and he bit his lip. He and Dean had sided with vampires more than once - _Dean. _The sudden flare of panic set him off guard and Gordon shoved forwards. Sam slammed back against the cupboards and his head swung. Gordon pressed his forearm against Sam's throat, lifting his gun again, smirking triumphantly.

"Where's Dean?" Sam rasped. "What did you do?"

"He's be fine," Gordon replied. "Can't say the same for you."

He cocked the gun and pressed it against Sam's temple. Sam's breathing hitched with fear: this was the end. There was no way he could escape this. Gordon's finger tightened on the trigger... and Opium appeared behind him and grabbed him by the shoulders. Sam saw the fierce hunger and bloodlust in the vampire's eyes, the primitive hunting nature in the instant before Opium sank his fangs into Gordon's neck. Gordon let go of Sam at once, allowing the Winchester to drop to the floor, and failed wildly but Opium held on grimly. The two of them sank to the floor, Gordon still struggling weakly, Opium gripping him with vice-like fingers. Sam scrambled up to his feet, rubbing his neck, and then looked up as the front door banged open.

"S-Sam?" Dean's voice called.

Sam actually trembled with relief as he staggered over to the door. Dean appeared at the same moment. Blood was rushing down his face from a deep gash on his cheekbone and a small cut on his lip, bruises darkening on his pale skin. He was swaying, clearly in shock.

"Sammy?"

Sam reached out to grip his brother's arm. "Dean! You okay?"

"Yeah, you?"

"Fine..." Sam turned around to look for Opium, but the vampire had already let go of Gordon. He was crouched on his knees, breathing hard, blood flowing down over his chin. Gordon had gone limp, apparently unconscious. Opium looked up at them.

"Mm not... killin' no one," he rasped.

Sam nodded and stepped forwards to pull him up to his feet, supporting him once more as Opium fell against him.

"C'mon," he said, looking from the vampire to Dean and back again. "Let's just get out of here."

Dean nodded and together they stumbled out of the house and into the night.

**Another chapter done... I won't be able to update for a while because as of Friday my life gets VERY complicated! I'll do my best!**

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	10. Blood

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural... I just wish I did!**

**Thank you for the reviews! Sorry again for the cock up with the last chapter, hope it didn't confuse people too much!**

"Opium?"

Sam waited about five seconds for a response, and then twisted around in his seat. Blood was leaking across the back seats of the Impala, dripping steadily onto the floor. For the third time since they had got into the car and begun to drive, Opium had stilled again. Sam leant over the back seats and touched the vampire's shoulder as gently as he could, glancing between him and the road.

"Opium? Hey, man, c'mon, don't fall asleep. You have to stay awake."

Opium moaned but then rolled his head towards Sam and blinked in acceptance. Sam retreated back to his seat, looking quickly at Dean. If his brother was angry at the fact that there was blood all over his car, he had kept quiet. In fact, right now, his eyes were simply fixed on the road with a strange kind of urgency in them. Dean had wanted to drive, but Sam had managed to over-rule him for once. In his condition, Dean would probably only succeed in crashing the car. Instead, Sam drove and Dean had called Vicky to tell her to head back to the house. Their plan hadn't gone according to plan, but at least everyone was alive.

Apart from Lusing, that is, Sam added silently.

After hearing what that cowardly backstabber had done, Sam had only just controlled himself enough to keep from hunting the vampire down and slicing off his head himself. How dare Lusing abandon Dean - and his own brother too - at the very moment when they had needed him the most? Well, he would pay for it, Sam thought furiously. I'll see to that...

"Sam?"

Sam glanced at Dean. His brother had wiped the blood from his face, but the wound on his cheek was still weeping red tears. Dean had to keep blotting the blood off his cheek every few minutes.

"Gordon won't give up," Dean said. "I think we should try to get Vicky and Opium out of here. Gordon can finish the job and kill Lusing while we get the hell of the dodge. Tonight was far too close, and you know it."

"Yeah," Sam muttered, nodding. "But will Vicky go for it? Will she want to leave?"

"The question is, does she want to _live?_" Dean retorted. "We'll give her the facts straight. She can decide what to do."

Sam groaned suddenly, and Dean looked at him again. "What?"

"I've just realized," Sam muttered. "We can't go back to Vicky's. If Lusing could find Opium, he'll be able to find us. And now that he's not on our side, I'd say we have good reason to think that he'll be after our blood."

"Yeah, right," Dean said, sighing heavily. "Okay. We'll go to one of the motels in town. Maybe all the different smells will mask us for a while."

"Hopefully," Sam said. "You'd better call Vicky again. Tell her to pick up anything we might need from her house."

Dean shot him a glare. "Yes, _sir,_" he muttered, reaching for his mobile.

Sam managed a small smile. Dean was clearly irritated about not being in the driver's seat. Sam glanced at Opium again in the rear view mirror. Hopefully drinking some of Gordon's blood had helped him, but he was clearly still suffering from the treatment he had recieved. Sam wondered if the vampire had told Gordon anything... he liked to think that Opium would have kept his mouth shut no matter what, but how would he know how easily the vampire would break under Gordon's pressure? Hell, Sam didn't know if he himself could have held out for long, or even Dean. He wanted to ask... but now wasn't the time. It could wait.

They rounded the corner and a motel sign came into sight at the end of the road. Sam felt a rush of relief and accelerated. Dean, who was just lowering his mobile having spoken to Vicky, glanced at him.

"Is this far away enough?"

Sam nodded. "It'll have to do. We can't just drive all night with..." his voice trailed off and he nodded towards the back seat.

"Okay," Dean sighed. He fingered the bloody gash on his bruised cheek. "You think they have ice?"

"I'll go," Sam said as they pulled into the parking lot. "Give me your card."

"You?" Dean arched one eyebrow. "What about your face?"

Sam's hand leapt to the gash the bullet had left as it clipped his face. Then he scowled. "Well, what about yours? You look a hell of a lot worse than me."

Dean hesitated and then nodded and reached for his wallet. He pulled out one of his credit cards and passed it to Sam. Sam made to get out of the car.

"Wait!" Dean hissed, throwing out a hand. "Sam, your shirt!"

Sam looked down. Opium's blood was smeared across his shirt. Scowling, Dean pulled off his jacket and shoved it at Sam, who pulled it on and zipped it up to hide the bloodstains.

"Get your head straight, will you?" Dean muttered.

Sam grinned and climbed out of the car. He strode over to the main office and pushed the door open, heading over to the front desk. He hesitated as he reached it - would Opium and Vicky prefer to have a room of their own? - but it was certainly safer to remain together. Instead, he asked for a single room. The most space they had free had two beds and a fold-out sofa bed. Sam took it; he couldn't afford to be picky with a semi-conscious, bleeding vampire in the back of their car. He took the key and then moved back towards the Impala.

Dean had climbed out of the car and was crouched beside the open back door, speaking quietly to Opium. Opium's eyes were glazed and half-open, staring blindly into space. His breaths wheezed loudly in and out of his lungs and new blood was trickling from the corner of his mouth again. Dean straightened up and shut the door softly as Sam returned. Sam gestured towards the end of the block of rooms and they both stepped into the Impala.

"He's not looking good," Dean murmured under his breath as Sam guided the Impala down to their room. "Vicky's on her way."

Sam glanced over his shoulder, biting his lip. He hoped Vicky would get to them soon. He stopped the Impala outside their room and got out, looking back over his shoulder to speak to Dean as his brother got out of the car on the other side.

"You wanna take fang-boy, or should I?" Dean asked, glancing down at the back seat.

"I'll get him," Sam replied. "You take the stuff."

He pulled open the back door as Dean headed for the trunk. Sam bent down, putting a hand on Opium's shoulder and shaking him.

"Opium? Sorry, man, I've gotta get you up now. We're going inside."

Opium blinked slowly. There was no sign that he had understood Sam, or could even see him. Sam sighed and then reached into the car to hook his arms beneath the vampire's shoulders. He dragged the vampire backwards out of the car. Opium's legs buckled beneath him as Sam set him down on the hard carpark, and Sam hurriedly supported the vampire over his shoulder. Opium gasped with pain and his hand closed tightly over Sam's wrist in a vice-like grip.

"Sorry, sorry!" Sam hissed quickly, holding Opium tightly. He began to struggle towards the motel room, Opium a dead weight at his side. Any strength he had gained from Gordon's blood seemed to have vanished quickly.

Dean appeared at the door as Sam reached it and Sam passed him the key awkwardly. Dean, bags hung over his shoulders and arm, wrestled the door open and then stood back to let them in before following. Sam shuffled inside and let Opium down on the bed against the far wall. Opium growled softly, but made no other response. Sam strode over to the windows and pulled the curtains shut, hiding them from prying eyes. He turned back towards Dean, who was rooting around in one of their duffel bags.

"Okay," Sam said, taking a deep breath and moving over to stand beside the table on which Dean was placing their belongings. "Christ... so, what are we supposed to do now?"

"Set out some salt lines," Dean replied, his eyes on the bag. "And garlic."

"Garlic?" Sam repeated. "I thought that was a myth?"

"The myth got a little muddled," Dean said. "Its the smell that'll sheild us from them. Something about garlic affects vampire's senses almost as badly as it does human sense's - they just can't get past it. At least not for a good while anyway. As long as we keep our heads down we should be fine for a few days."

"What about Gordon? He's going to know about this stuff, and he won't give up easily," Sam replied. "As soon as Opium is fully conscious again, we should get out of town."

"Yeah, but until then, we don't have much choice," Dean muttered. "You know I would be out of here five minutes ago if you would just dump the fangs, but you won't so we'll just have to stay."

Sam smiled wryly. "Alright, alright. Where's the first aid kit?"

"Ah," Dean said, pulling it out of the bag at last and holding it out. Sam reached out to take the box but before he could do so there was a loud rap at the door and he stopped. His hand flew to his gun. Dean shot him a warning glance and then stepped up to the door. He pulled it open a crack, his own gun cocked, and then relaxed and opened it wide.

Vicky stepped inside, her face pale with fear. She had a large rucksack on her back, which she deposited carelessly on the floor. She looked around, opening her mouth, and then noticed Opium and anything she had been about to say vanished from her mind. She lurched forwards, falling to her knees beside him.

"Opium," she gasped, laying her hand on his bloody chest. "Oh my god... Opium? Can you hear me?"

She placed her other hand on the side of his face and he rolled his head towards her, moaning weakly. Sam looked away, feeling as if he were intruding on something private. Dean had busied himself with his bag, even though Sam could see that he was watching the pair silently out of the corner of his eye. Vicky looked up suddenly, tears spilling freely from her eyes and down her cheeks.

"How bad is it?" she demanded, her voice trembling wildly.

Sam looked quickly at Dean, who was convieniently busy with checking his gun. Taking a deep breath, Sam stepped forwards, the first aid box held tightly in his hands as if it would somehow help him to explain.

"I'm not really sure... Gordon's been using dead man's blood, which basically makes vampires sick."

"And all this?" Vicky asked shrilly, gesturing at the bloody pentagram. "What about this?"

"That should heal as soon as the effects of the dead man's blood wear off. It might take quite a while since... well..." He swallowed hard. He crouched down beside her, opening the first aid box. "I'll clear the blood up and then-"

"I'll do it," Vicky said harshly, snatching the box from him. She began to dab carefully at the blood, tears still streaming down her face. Sam hesitantly laid a hand on her shoulder, offering sympathy. She gave a short nod, and he retreated.

"So," Dean said quietly to him as Sam reached him. "How much do you think Gordon got out of him?"

"I don't know," Sam replied. "I mean, there's very little he can give away about us. I think Lusing is the one who has something to worry about now."

"Not a bad thing," Dean growled.

Sam looked at him. "I meant to ask, what happened? Where did he go?"

"Bastard deserted me," Dean spat. "He just cleared off, him and his fanged pals, and left me with Gordon."

Sam gestured at one of the table chairs. "Sit down." And then, when Dean raised his eyebrows, "Someone needs to look at your face."

Dean sat down. Sam pulled their second smaller first aid box from the depths of his bag and began to search for butterfly bandages and antiseptic.

"Lusing will be after us now," Dean muttered. "I mean, now that its kill or be killed, you know? Now we're stuck with both of them on our tail."

"Yeah, well," Sam said. "We'll survive. We always do."

Dean snorted. "Right."

"It all depends on how much Lusing knows," Sam said. "And on how much Opium told in the first place. If he said anything, that is. He might have held out. He's pretty tough..."

"I don't know," Dean muttered. "I mean, this is Gordon, you know? He would go all the way... he's lucky to be alive now."

Sam opened his mouth to respond when another voice spoke, cracked and weak but silencing them all despite it. Sam and Dean twisted around in their chairs to watch as Opium rolled his head towards them.

"I... told him," Opium rasped. "About... Ha-Hathway... about Lusing..."

"Hathway?" Dean repeated.

Opium closed his eyes, breathing hard through clenched teeth. Vicky gripped his hand, glancing back at them.

"Hathway Street," she said. "That's Lusing's back-up hideout. That's where Lusing is now."

**Not much happened in this chapter I know, but I felt that it was about time for an update. Hope you enjoyed it. Please REVIEW!!**

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	11. Calling

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural... I just wish I did!**

**Thanks for the reviews, people!**

Sam switched the plastic carrier bag to his other hand and flexed his fingers, wincing. He glanced up and down the road before crossing it, the motel coming into sight on the other side. The warm afternoon sun beat down on the back of his neck - it was so warm today that he had slung his jacket over his arm almost as soon as he left the motel, and his shirt was sticking to his back. The motel car park was practically empty: almost everyone had gone out to enjoy the weather. Both he and the others were glad of this - less people meant less questions. It had been two days since he and Dean had rescued Opium from Gordon, and everything had been surprisingly quiet. _Worryingly _quiet. Hell, Gordon hadn't even called. Sam knew how anxious Dean was, but neither of them had said a word to Vicky or Opium.

He reached the other side of the road and strode over to their room, glancing around out of habit than fear. No one was watching them. No cars lingered on the sides of the road, no eyes tracked them from dark windows. Sam reached their room and knocked lightly on the door. After a slight pause, the door cracked open. He recognized Dean's green eyes staring out through the gap before the door opened all the way, his brother lowering his gun.

"Hey," Dean said, turning away as Sam stepped inside.

Sam shut the door quickly behind him, looking over the dark room. The dull lightbulb was the only light - the curtains had been drawn over the windows to hide the sunlight. Across the room on the far bed, Opium was curled up on his side facing the wall, one arm wrapped around his chest. The sound of the shower hissed from the bathroom, betraying Vicky's location. Sam made his way over to Opium, pulling a large box of extra-strength painkillers from the bag.

"Opium?" he called softly. "I've got them."

Opium rolled over onto his back, blinking sluggishly. His silvery eyes glistened in the half-light, and his pupils were huge round disks, like a cat caught in the headlights. He gazed blankly at Sam, who held up the box again. Opium reached for them, taking them from Sam's hand with heavy limbs.

"Thanks, Sam," he muttered.

Sam smiled and walked over to Dean as the vampire settled again.

"Wow," Dean said under his breath as Sam sat down opposite him. "That's the most thanks you've got out of him all week."

"He's not so bad," Sam replied, grinning. He pulled his brother's hamburger out of the plastic bag and pushed it across the table towards him before taking his own food out. "No news of Gordon? Or Lusing?"

"Nope," Dean said, putting his mobile down on the table and seizing the hamburger. "Nothing. Its freaking me out, damn it."

"Maybe he left town," Sam suggested. "Maybe he's worried we'll come back for him."

"Do you really believe that?"

Sam hesitated and then shook his head. "No. But I don't know what else to think. I mean, why wouldn't he come after us again?"

Dean shrugged. "I almost wish he had found us. This waiting is just killing me."

Sam glanced at Opium, who was still curled on his side. The sound of the shower shut off in the other room. Vicky would probably join them soon.

"How's our fanged friend today?" Sam muttered.

Dean shook his head. "Dunno, he won't talk. Seems better, though. I think he and Vicky ah... did it again."

Sam nodded, understanding. On the first night Vicky had told them to wait outside while she allowed the Opium to take her blood. Dean had clearly hated it, but there was nothing he could do. It was Vicky's choice, not theirs. Sam didn't know what to make of it, but it came down to very little - Opium wasn't killing anyone and Vicky was perfectly happy with the situation. Did feeding off a volunteer count as evil?

He glanced at his brother, who was by this time engrossed in his food. He had had another nightmare the night before. Of the Impala, of Dean, of vampirism... all of it seemed to be pointing towards a single thing, and yet how was he suppossed to even mention the subject? _Hey, Dean, ever fancied having fangs? _But his dream must mean something.

And they may be running out of time to do something about it.

* * *

"How many times do I have to apologize?"

Gordon kept his eyes on the house across the road. He was slouched in his car, a dark hat pulled down to hide his face. The autumn leaves littered the ground, skeletal trees snatching at the sky as if trying to reach a happier place. The small, prim house stood almost directly behind the large white sign reading, 'Hathway Street.' Gordon was good at waiting. He had been waiting for five hours already, mostly in silence. Amy had tried to start conversation but he had remained slient, and so she had plugged herself into her i-pod. Now, however, it looked as if she was coming out of hiding.

"Gordon, please," she said. "You have to talk to me sometime."

"I'm not ignoring you," he muttered. "And I heard you apologize."

"You did a pretty good job of pretending, then," Amy said sourly. "Look, I really am sorry. Winchester just came up behind me, hit me, I had no chance. By the time I woke up..." she sighed heavily. "It won't happen again."

"No, it won't," Gordon replied. "Because I always work solo. This was just a favour to your father, for someone experienced to show you the ropes. I've done that, now you're on your own."

"Gordon! I can help you with this-"

"No, you can't." Gordon shot her a glare before quickly returning his gaze to the house. "I would prefer it if you just left."

Amy slid down in her chair, folding her arms tightly. "So this is why you wouldn't even tell me your plan. Won't you at least let me stay until we finish the job?"

Gordon didn't respond. Amy took his silence as a 'yes' and a smile flashed across her face. "Good. Then what're we doing?"

"We're waiting," Gordon said softly. "Lusing has to come out sooner or later. I saw his face that night. He'll be after his brother, either to apologize or to kill him. And right now, his brother is with the Winchesters."

"So if we follow Lusing," Amy said slowly, "We'll find the Winchesters."

Gordon gave a short, curt nod.

* * *

Opium could hear every noise amplified as if through a megaphone. He could hear the tap dripping in the bathroom. He could hear the steady booming as Dean Winchester tapped his mobile against the table. He could hear Vicky's heel swinging against her chair leg, a deafening banging. He could hear Sam's every sigh like the roar of a hurricane. He would have screamed at them all to shut up, but his throat stung whenever he swallowed and he doubted that yelling would help much. The dead mans blood had almost left his system - these were the final effects that were slowly but surely wearing off. Things had been much, much worse only twenty four hours ago...

He pushed the thought away, rubbing a hand over his chest where the wounds carved there still throbbed. Every throb brought a rush of rage with it. He wanted nothing more than to tear Gordon Walker apart, rip him limb from limb... he hadn't killed anyone whilst feeding for over two hundred years, and wasn't prepared to break that oath for some sadistic hunter. But he _was _prepared to kill for revenge. He knew that Vicky just wanted them to get out of the city, that the Winchester brothers were hoping to drive them out as soon as possible. But he couldn't leave yet. Not until everything was sorted... the three people sitting across the room began to talk in lowered voices. Opium pressed both hands over his ears, wincing at the noise. He couldn't block it out. A low growl rumbled from his throat, and the conversation paused before continuing once more. Opium squeezed his eyes shut and then abruptly pushed himself upright and rose to his feet. His head swung, but he managed to stay vertical. He blinked hard and then made his way over to the bathroom, tearing the door open and stepping inside, ignoring the stunned silence of his companions. He locked the door behind him and slid down it to sit on the floor, pressing both hands over his face.

He and Lusing would have to sort things eventually. Things were certainly not over between them, not after what he had just been through. He had wondered many times as he screamed in that basement why Lusing would give up his only brother. There had once been a time when they valued each other more than the 'greater good.' Now, apparently, it was clear that his brother wanted nothing more to do with him. Was willing to betray him, even, to a hunter. And what was he supposed to do? If he stayed, Gordon would kill him. If he ran, Lusing would follow him, tracking him through and through. And the Winchesters would be left to Gordon. Opium hated owing people - he would prefer to clear everything now.

In his pocket his mobile suddenly vibrated violently, and he hissed. He tore it out and was about to pound it into a mass of crumpled metal when he noticed the number. He paused, and then answered. There was no greeting, only a harsh, laboured breathing on the other end. Eventually, he spoke.

"What do you want?"

"Hey, bro," Lusing said, his voice trembling. "How... how are you?"

Opium bit back a growl. "Infected with poison and half dead," he snarled coldly. "How are you?"

"Listen, Opium... god, I feel terrible. I came back for you-"

"I heard what you did back there. You just abandoned them. And me."

"I'm sorry," Lusing said helplessly.

"Why should I believe you?"

Lusing hesitated. "You remember the church? We used to go there every Sunday with mum. I hated it, but you kept on. To please her, more than anything else, wasn't it? You kept me in line, for both our sakes."

"I remember," Opium said.

Lusing paused again. "We... we need to talk," he said at last. "We need to... to decide."

Opium swallowed hard. "Yeah," he said. "We do."

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	12. Worst That Could Happen

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural... I just wish I did!**

**Sorry about the delay with this chapter. I had a LOT of deadlines all at once and realized that I had missed out most of my coursework... eeek! Think I got away with it though... hopefully! Anyway, on with the story.**

Sam jerked awake, his heart lurching through his chest... and took in the darkness of the motel room. He lay still on his back, pushing deep breaths in and out of his lungs. That dream again. Dean as a vampire. God, he _had _to talk to Dean about this soon before he missed his chance. What if it really was some kind of sign? What if he needed one of the vampires here to turn Dean, make him imortal? But he could never imagine Dean doing that. To become a 'monster' was something that his brother would never be able to take. And yet, if he went to hell, who knew what he might become?

That thought scared him.

Sam sat up, scooting backwards to lean against the headboard. He didn't want to go back to sleep just yet, not with those ideas floating around in his head. Instead, he peered around the darkened room. The blazing numbers on the digital clock beside his bed told him that it was just past midnight. Across the room he could see Dean slumped over the table, his head pillowed on his arms. Apparently that one last beer had lasted longer than his brother had expected. Sam knew his brother had been planning to stay up a little longer to watch for danger. He couldn't wait to wake him up and explain to him that he had fallen asleep on his watch. Sam turned his head to the side and the other bed, which Opium and Vicky were sharing. Then he frowned. He could only see one person there. He turned to the bathroom, wondering if Opium was in there, but there was no light and no noises coming from within...

_Shit, shit, shit..._

Sam scrambled out of bed and grabbed his jeans, pulling them on over his boxers. He staggered over to the bathroom as he did up his belt and kicked the door open. It banged back against the wall with a deafening crash, and he heard a dull groan from behind him. The bathroom was empty. He whirled around and sprinted across the room to the front door and began to unlock it, his fingers fumbling on the chain. Dean, still bleary-eyed, leapt up from the table and staggered after him.

"Wh-What?" he mumbled, reaching for his gun. "Wossappening?"

Sam leaned out of the room and looked left and right. Rain was pouring down thick and fast. Opium wasn't outside...

"Damn it!" he yelled out, whirling around. "Dean, Opium's gone."

"Gone?" Vicky was sitting up in her bed, looking around in confusion as if expecting to see Opium hiding behind a corner. "When? How?"

"He must have waited until we were asleep," Dean muttered. "Damn it!"

"What's wrong?" Vicky demanded. "Where's he gone?"

"We don't know," Dean growled. "But I was worried about him going back for... for revenge."

"Revenge?" Vicky repeated.

Sam swallowed hard. "Lusing and Gordon both have a lot to answer for and vampires can be very bad people to cross."

"But Opium wouldn't..." Vicky's voice trailed off. Then she put both hands over her face. "Oh god, he would," she whimpered. "We have to find him."

"Any suggestions?" Dean demanded. "I mean, it would be nice for someone to come up with _something!_"

"Wait," Sam said, lifting his hands. "Wait a second. Last time Lusing wanted to meet, they met in the church, right? Why would they do that? Not exactly a vampire clubbing ground, is it?"

"The church," Vicky repeated. "Opium likes it for some reason. I think it has something to do with his past."

"Then that's where we start," Sam said steadily. "Its better than nothing."

And he reached for his gun.

* * *

The rain was pouring down so hard that Opium could barely see past a few meters. He was already drenched through, and the wound on his chest was stinging dully. He couldn't find it in his heart to care about that now; he didn't care how strong Lusing was. His anger would make him stronger. The church came into sight before him, the steeple vanishing into the blurry thundering sky. Serene stone angels watched him as he strode forwards, his hands balled into fists. He reached the church and pushed the huge wooden doors wide open.

The crash of wood against stone echoed straight through the church. At the very end of the pews, Lusing leapt to his feet, his wide eyes catching in the streetlight that flooded in through the doors.

"Opium," he called. "Hey, bro."

He must have sensed the tension crackling around Opium's glare - his voice was hesitant and sharp. Opium strode halfway down the alter and then stopped dead, watching as Lusing stalked slowly forwards to meet him. They stopped three meters apart, eyes locked, bodies tense.

"So," Lusing said quietly. "How are we going to do this?"

"I gave you chance after chance, Lusing," Opium growled. "But now I'm through with you stabbing me in the back. You're a monster. I can't save you. No one can."

"I don't_ need _saving!" Lusing spat. "Jesus, Opium! I was wrong to betray you before, but you're the one who just can't take what you are! Killing me won't change anything. You'll still have killed, you'll still be a monster yourself. I'm not the problem here: you are."

Opium's hands curled into claws. Lusing's eyes flashed as he peeled his lips back from his teeth, his fangs protruding from his jaw.

"You've crossed me for the last time," Opium snapped. "You're not _you _anymore, Lusing."

"Then kill me," Lusing challenged, spreading his hands. "You go ahead, bro. Do your worst."

His challenge shone in his eyes, malicious and demanding. For a moment, the church sang with a deadly, heavy silence. Then Lusing let his arms fall.

"See?" he sanpped. "I knew you couldn't hack it-"

He broke off with a yell of shock as Opium launched himself forwards, carrying them both off the floor and back into a stone pillar. The stone crumbled around them and Lusing clawed at Opium's face, catching him across the cheek. Opium flinched backwards and Lusing scrambled free. He sprinted for a door near the back of the church, moving so fast that Opium barely saw him. With a roar of fury, Opium threw himself after his brother. The door led through into a huge dark stairwell, stone steps leading straight upwards. Opium could already hear Lusing running up them a few levels higher. He raced after him, catching up within seconds. He caught at Lusing's foot, sending the other vampire crashing down into the stone. Lusing twisted around, blood marring his smug features, and lashed out with both feet. Opium twisted away and jumped straight over him, landing on the step above. He stamped downwards but Lusing pulled out of the way before swiping at him again with both hands. Opium turned and sprinted upwards, taking the steps four at a time. He burst out through the door at the top and sprinted onto the roof, instantly hit by lashing rain.

He was balanced on the foot-wide flat surface between the sloping sides of the church roof. Far ahead a steeple stood straight upwards signalling the end of the roof. Opium skidded to a halt halfway down the roof and whirled to face Lusing as the other vampire appeared in the doorway. His brother snarled low in his throat and stepped forwards.

"Come on then, _bro," _he growled, an animal edge to his voice. "I've got all night."

"Then get on with it," Opium snarled back, his fangs bared.

Lusing kicked the door shut and sprang forwards like a panther, his fangs catching the moonlight, his eyes shining like twin torches in the darkness. And Opium rose up to meet him, his claw-like hands snatching like vipers.

* * *

Dean hurled the Impala to a stop beside the church and Sam scrambled out straightaway. He had barely taken three strides towards the doors when Dean yelled his name. He turned around to see Vicky and Dean climbing out of the Impala, both of them gazing upwards.

"I think we've found them," Vicky shouted, pointing.

Sam turned to follow her gaze, and his eyes widened. High up against the darkness of the sky, he could just pick out two shillouettes locked together in a feirce struggle, the rain almost hiding them from sight. Sam's mouth fell open.

"Oh, that's just great."

"It get's better," Dean muttered. He pulled his gun from his jeans and pulled Vicky behind him, moving backwards away from the road. "Sam, heads up!"

Sam turned, and his stomach jerked. Gordon's car had just appeared from around the corner. He started forwards. "Dean..."

"Get out of here," Dean ordered. And then, as Sam hesitated, "Sam, for god's sake, he wants you dead!"

Vicky suddenly gasped, making them both look up. Lusing seemed to have suddenly gained the upper hand - Opium had fallen down the side of the roof and was holding onto a statue to keep himself anchored. Lusing, maddened with anger, was sliding down after him. Vicky let out a cry and sprinted for the church, vanishing into it before they could stop her. Sam hissed in anger.

"Dean!"

"I know!"

They couldn't leave now. Vicky was about to run into two furious vampires struck in a heated war. Dean's eyes flickered between Gordon, who was climbing out of his car and Sam. Then he shook his head.

"Go get Vicky and then run."

"No! I'm not just gonna leave you here, Dean!"

"Yes you are!" Dean snapped. "Now go and get Vicky before those two make cat food outta her!"

Without another word Dean ran forwards to meet Gordon and slammed the butt of his gun into the other man's stomach. Gordon brought his fist up into Dean's face and the two tumbled backwards. Sam hovered, torn. How could he just leave his brother? But then, how could he leave Vicky to be torn apart? A movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and he turned. Amy had got out of the car and was on her knees, aiming at Dean. He could almost see her counting down in her head as Gordon span his brother around, holding him steady.

_NO!_

Sam swung his gun up and fired without a second thought. The bullet hit Vicky in the side of the head and she fell to the floor, twitching for a moment before lying motionless. Both Dean and Gordon flinched and then froze. Gordon recovered first, turning towards Sam with fury etched on his face, but Dean threw both arms around his neck and dragged him backwards.

"Sam, go!" he shouted.

Sam turned and ran.

**Again, sorry for the delay. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

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	13. Stop

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural... I just wish I did!**

**Thanks for the reviews!**

Vicky pounded to the top of the stone steps leading to the roof and stopped, panting hard. She could hear the snarls of the fighting vampires even through the door. She made a desperate lurch towards it and dragged it open. Her mind vaugely recognized the sound of a gunshot somewhere below, but she barely noticed it. All she cared about was Opium. She scrambled out onto the roof, her trainers slipping on the tiny wet beam that sat between the sloping sides of the roof. About ten metres away Opium and Lusing were locked together, hissing and growling like wolves, hands tearing at one another like claws. The flashing lightning caught on Opium's face and Vicky froze. His mouth was open wide, his fangs huge and glistening, his pupils so huge that they seemed to swamp his whole eye. His face was twisted with rage and hatred. For the first time since she had met him, Opium looked... he looked like a monster. Completely unnatural.

"Opium," Vicky whispered.

Both vampires whirled around, practically spitting rage. Vicky flinched back against the stone bell room behind her.

"Didn't know you brought a snack for the break," Lusing said. His voice sounded strangely wild, as if he had completely lost his grip on sanity. His eyes glowed a dangerous, burning red with bloodlust. "C'mon, bitch, come see your boyfriend!"

He lunged forwards and Opium threw himself onto his brother's back, his hand clawing the othe vampire's cheek. Lusing screamed in pain and twisted, throwing his head backwards. He hit Opium in the face and the vampire flew backwards. He slid down the side of the roof, hands digging into the tiles in a vain attempt to stop his fall. Vicky let out a cry of horror and started forwards, but Lusing moved faster than the lightning that was crackling overhead. Within seconds he was grabbing her by the arms in a vice-like grip, his fangs bared. His head twisted to one side and he struck, his fangs sinking deep into her neck. Vicky screamed, thrashing wildly against him. Pain slammed into her like a brick wall, blinding her...

"_Hey!"_

A sharp gunshot tore through the air and Lusing screamed and fell back, releasing her. Vicky stumbled backwards and felt a strong arm curling around her shoulders, breaking her fall. She turned her head and, with a rush of relief, saw Sam supporting her, his other hand still aiming his gun at the howling vampire. Lusing looked up at him, breathing hard, blood trickling from a graze on the side of his head. Sam had only just clipped him.

"Oh, you'll pay for that one, you butcher!" Lusing roared, surging forwards. Sam pushed Vicky behind him, bracing himself.

"Vicky, run!" he said rapidly. "Get-"

He got no further. The next second Lusing had rammed straight into him. The vampire lifted him clean off the ground, span around and threw him across the roof. Sam hit the stone bell tower at the other end and dropped downwards, gasping, blood streaming from his nose. He clamped a hand over his shoulder, and Vicky remembered with a jolt the gunshot wound that was still healing. Sam was definately not ready for a fight with an angry vampire. Lusing picked Sam up by the collar and slammed him back against the stone, forcing out a yell of pain.

"You really think you can kill me?" Lusing demanded. "You really think you can change _anything _in this hell hole of a world?"

"You're not killin' anyone else," Sam said hoarsely. "Me, my brother, we're not gonna let you."

"Really?" Lusing shoved his face forwards, his lips dripping blood onto Sam's shirt. "Just try and stop me."

His next movement was so quick that Vicky almost missed it. Lusing turned and, holding Sam by the collar, threw him out into the night. Vicky froze in horror, her mouth open. _Nonono! _Sam hit the slanted roof and tumbled down it, spinning over before flying off the edge of the roof and plummetting down to the ground below, out of sight. At the same time, Vicky realized that Opium had vanished. Lusing turned towards her and she stumbled backwards, reaching for the door, but he was already moving towards her. He caught her by the throat.

"No!" he snarled. "This time, _everyone _dies."

He bared his fangs - and Opium flicked himself up from behind the bell tower and landed on the roof behind him. He grabbed Lusing by the back of his jacket and launched them both straight upwards, landing on top of the bell tower. Vicky span around to keep them in sight, gasping for breath, just in time to see Opium lift his brother high in the air and -

Vicky shut her eyes, pressing a hand over her mouth.

Opium had just slammed Lusing down on top of the church's spire.

Opium stood frozen, staring down at the other vampire's twitching body. Blood pulsated from Lusing's chest where the spire had cut straight through and ran from the corner of his mouth in a thick river. The vampire's eyes slid up to fix on Opium's. Then the bloodlust faded, the fangs slid away into his jaw and his eyes glazed over. Opium swallowed hard, his whole body shaking.

"Lusing..." he whispered.

Vicky wet her lips, inching forwards. Somewhere in the confusion of the fight the rain and thunder had stopped leaving the air tense and damp. She watched Opium, hesitating.

"Opium?"

He looked down at her. His face had lost that monstruous expression, leaving it dazed and blank. Vicky held out her hand.

"You've done it. You can come down now, Opium."

Opium stared at her. "I... I never thought... I would do it... not really..." He lowered his eyes to the corpse of his brother once again.

Vicky stretched closer. "Come on, Opium. We should leave. Sam and Dean are..." her voice trailed off.

_Sam. Oh, god, Sam..._

"Opium? We have to find Sam," she said, her voice slightly louder. "Lusing threw him off the roof. Opium!"

Opium flinched and then abruptly shook himself and jumped down from the spire. He took Vicky's hand. Tears glistened wetly on his cheeks, and when he spoke his voice was still trembling with suppressed emotion.

"Yeah. Yeah, come on. Let's go."

Together they turned towards the stairs and stepped off the roof.

* * *

Dean could barely hold his ground against Gordon. The other man was just _stronger. _And acting to avenge Amy's death now... Dean let out a sharp grunt as Gordon kicked him in the stomach, sending him to the ground. The other man turned to go to the house, but Dean lurched forwards and wrapped both arms around his legs, sending him crashing to the floor. Gordon twisted around, trying to kick Dean in the face, but Dean rolled clear and rose to his feet, snatching up his gun as he went. Gordon froze as Dean pointed his gun at him.

"Come on, then!" he hissed, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. "Kill me!"

Dean's mouth was a firm line. He clenched his jaw, his finger tightened on the trigger... and a sudden cry from above made him look upwards just in time to see Sam roll down the slanted roof of the church before pitching off it and dropping like a stone towards the ground. Dean's heart jerked.

"SAM!" he yelled.

He made to run forwards, but Gordon had leapt to his feet in the distraction and reached out to grab Dean by the collar. Without thinking, Dean whirled to face him and brought his gun crashing down on Gordon's head. The other man swayed, eyes wide, and then slumped to the ground and lay motionless. Dean kicked him away and span around. He sprinted towards the church, his heart pounding in beat to the wild fear in his head.

_Oh god... he's dead... oh god... he'd dead... shit, shit, shit!_

He rounded the corner and stopped dead, the sight he saw freezing him on the spot.

Sam lay on his back on the grass, blood seeping from the back of his head into the muddy earth. His eyes were half-open, a tiny glimmer the only indication that they were open at all. Blood was carving a thin, delicate path down his cheek, trickling steadily from his mouth. Dean gazed at him, blinking hard as if trying to make the horrible sight dissappear.

"Sammy..."

He staggered forwards and fell unsteadily to his knees beside his brother's side. He leant forwards, taking Sam's face in his hands. Sam's head lolled lifelessly in his grasp, his eyes still flickering at half mast. They stared straight through Dean into space, unseeing and empty. Dean let out a choking sob, a sudden unbearable pressure pushing down on his chest.

"S-Sammy, no, please," he whimpered, his voice pitifully broken. "This isn't supposed to happen... wake up, Sammy, please, you have to wake up... S-Sam, please... Sammy..."

He gently lifted Sam into a sitting position and wrapped both arms tightly around him, burrying his head in his little brother's shoulder. Unconsciously the whispered prayer continued to slip past his lips, desperate and trembling with tears.

"S-Sammy... don't do this... please, please... please, god, please... I gotcha, Sammy... please wake up... S-Sammy, this can't happen, it can't... god, S-Sam..."

Behind him Opium and Vicky rounded the corner of the church, both pale and shaking.

"Gordon's vanished," Opium said, his voice still slightly unsteady. "I think he's done a runner. What should we..." his voice trailed off as he took in the scene. Vicky pressed both hands over her mouth in shock and greif.

"Oh, god," she whispered.

Dean barely heard them. He rocked back and forth, back and forth, squeezing Sam tightly as if he would never let go, tears rushing freely down his cheeks.

"Sammy, no, no... Sam... please, Sammy, please... S-Sammy... S-Sammy..."

**Please Review! I'm thinking that this story might be wandering off the point a little. Might give up and try it again in a month or so, give it another start.**

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	14. Breathe

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural... I just wish I did!**

**Thank you SOOOO much for reviewing!! It really does mean so much to me. I'm going to keep on with this story. Its getting near the end anyway, so I'm sure I can get out another few chapters! :D**

"Sammy... S-Sammy... c'mon, please, Sam..."

Sam wasn't moving. His limp, heavy body lolled in Dean's arms. Dean could feel his brother's blood seeping slowly into his chest. Apparently the shoulder wound was bleeding again... in a few moments that blood would stop pumping. Dean let out a trembling, hacking sob, his tears rushing from his eyes, salty and sharp. God, Sam was even still warm. Dean's whole body was shaking so badly that he could barely keep his grip on Sam, every breath seemed to hit his swollen throat and bounce back out before he could fill his lungs properly. A desperate scream wrenched from his throat, wracked with tears.

"SAM!"

A pale hand came down on Dean's shoulder. "Dean... we can't be found here. De-"

Dean whipped around, still clutching Sam with one arm, his eyes blazing. "_Don't you touch him!_ I'll fucking _kill you_ if you fucking _touch him_, you demon-spawned fang!"

Opium stared back at him steadily. "Dean, please. We'll take Sam with us, how 'bout that?"

"Get the fuck off me!" Dean snapped, his hand snapping down to the gun that lay on the ground beside his feet.

Opium eyed the gun warily and slowly raised his hands. Dean glared at him a moment longer and then threw down the gun and turned back to Sam. He shut his eyes tightly. Maybe if he prayed, harder than anyone had ever prayed before, maybe he could find some help, some tiny chink of hope that Sam was okay...

_Please, God, please, I'll do anything you want, smite me all you like just please, please, please don't kill my brother... please let Sammy live, please... please, God, please, please..._

"Dean..."

Dean ignored Opium. The vampire still hadn't moved, and unless he did so soon someone was going to get shot. Dean continued his silent mantra, but then Opium spoke again, his voice loud and insistent.

"Dean! Dean, shut up!"

Dean lifted his tear-streaked face, ready to scream at Opium to go to hell, but something about the vampire's expression stopped him. Opium had knelt down on Sam's other side and had his head cocked to one side, as if listening intently. His eyes were glowing slightly, his lips pressed firmly together as he struggled to resist the blood pouring out of Sam's body. He looked up at Dean.

"Dean, listen!"

Dean blinked at him. And in the silence that followed those two little words came the most beautiful, wonderful, amazing thing that Dean had ever heard in his life. A shallow, tiny, almost inaudiable rasp in, a shuddering whisper out... breathing. Sam was breathing.

_Sam was alive._

Dean stared down at his brother, his eyes wide, hardly daring to hope. And yet it was true, Sam was breathing. Dean lifted a trembling hand and pushed Sam's hair back, then ran a hand down his face, gently rubbing Sam's blood-stained cheek with his hand. Sam's half-closed eyes fluttered and then closed in a long, lucid blink.

"Sammy!"

Dean's voice cracked on the word as relief pulsed through him, leaving him weak and shaking. He shut his eyes tightly, dropping his forehead to press it against Sam's.

_Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou..._

Whatever twist of fate this was, whatever bizarre chance that Lady Luck had thrown at them, whatever second chance he had been given, it didn't matter. Sam was _alive._

"Dean!" Opium was rising to his feet, his eyes flickering urgently. "We have to get him to a hospital. Hey!"

Dean flinched as Opium barked out the word, slowly beginning to get a grip on himself again. Opium glared down at him, jaw tight.

"He's spitting blood, which means internal bleeding and he's just been thrown from a rooftop. He'll die if we don't get him help _now."_

Dean nodded, shaking himself inwardly for being so slow. They could celebrate later - Sam's life was still on the line. Dean rapidly slipped an arm under Sam's knees, curled his hand into the far shoulder of Sam's jacket and then rose to his feet. Sam's head lolled into his neck, blood leaking from his open mouth to stain the rim of Dean's T-shirt. The back of his head was exposed and Dean found himself staring down into hair matted with thick dark liquid. Fighting down a rush of nausea, Dean turned and strode towards the road. Opium streaked past him towards the car and Vicky followed him at a run, already shouting into her mobile. Dean barely noticed them. In his arms, Sam felt as helpless and heavy as death itself. Dean found himself shifting his hands awkwardly, almost scared to grip him too tightly, as if his bones were suddenly thin and hollow like a birds, as if he was too fragile to be carried in such a way. He clutched at Sam's jacket, terrified of tripping or dropping him...

..._Dean heaved Sam out of the creaking wooden cot that stood in the corner of the motel room. Sam cooed and giggled, reaching out with tiny hands to grab at Dean's shirt and hair. Dean grinned and then gasped as his foot slipped on a stray toy, carelessly tossed to the floor. Sam was much heavier these days, and the sudden extra weight drove them almost drove them down to the floor. For a few seconds Dean teetered precariously, fighting with gravity, his eyes wide with fear. Then strong hands sudden came down from behind him and whisked Sam up out of reach, a sharp, furious voice breaking the tense silence._

_"Sam! Christ, Dean, you almost dropped him!"_

_Dean whirled around to look up at his father. John was staring at Sam in terror, as if trying to see if Dean had cracked the baby's smooth, porcelin skin. Dean's bottom lip automatically began to tremble at the sound of being shouted at, but then John looked at him again._

_"You never, _ever _let your baby brother fall, you hear me? He's too fragile, too young, Dean. You can't just drop him like that, you hear me? Do you understand?"_

_His voice had steadily been getting louder, but strangely Dean no longer felt tears threatening. Instead, he found himself staring at the tiny figure in his father's arms, bright eyes sparkling with life. He imaginned Sam falling from his hands and shattering as he hit the ground, smashing into a thousand glittering pieces like tiny diamonds... so precious._

_"Dean!"_

_"Yes, sir," Dean whispered. "I'll take care of Sam."_

_He held out his hands. John hesitated but across the room his mobile began to ring. He scowled and then carefully handed Sam over before walking away. Dean wrapped his arms tentatively around his baby brother. Sam reached up and clasped Dean's top, his fat fist closing in the matireal. Dean looked back at him seriously._

_"I won't let you fall Sam," he said. "Not ever."_

_"I promise..."_

"You hold on, now, Sammy," Dean growled, his eyes filling with tears once more as the memory overwhelmed him. "You're not falling yet."

He reached the Impala. Opium had already climbed into the drivers seat. At any other time, Dean would have scalped any man who tried to take the wheel of his car without permission... but right now there were more important things at stake than his glossy baby. Vicky had opened the back door and was standing beside it, ready to help, but Dean ignored her. Instead, he ducked into the car with Sam still clutched in his arms and scooted awkwardly to the side. Sam lolled heavily in his arms, threatening to slip from his grasp, but somehow Dean managed to lay him across the seats, his mop-haired head resting on Dean's knees. Vicky shut the door and climbed into the passengar seat. Opium was already jerking the car out off the pavement, tearing straight into the road. Dean flinched as the car shook roughly wrapping both arms around his brother.

"Christ, Opium, take it easy," Dean hissed.

He moved one hand downwards down his brother's arm, trying to get a better grip on Sam without hurting him. His hand passed over a large, hard lump just below the elbow and Sam suddenly moaned weakly, a small shudder running over his body. Dean froze, and then moved his hand over the limb once more as gently as he could. A definate break. Maybe Sam had come down hard on one side before rolling onto his back. Sam suddenly sucked in a sharp breath and his back arched, agony cutting deep lines into his face.

"Sammy? Shh, Sammy, shh," Dean whispered, cupping Sam's cheek with one hand. "Its okay, you're gonna be just fine."

Sam's eyes slid open to reveal dull, glassy orbs overflowing with tears. His brother let out a weak sob and Dean's heart shattered in his chest. He reached for Sam's hand, leaning over as far as he could to try and get into Sam's line of sight.

"Hey, hey," he said softly. "I'm here, Sammy, I'm right here. We're gonna get you to a hospital. I'm gonna watch out for you, okay, bro? I've gotcha back."

Sam's glazed eyes stared straight through him. His whole body was rigid with pain, giving a short shake every so often as if trying to push the agony away. A tear slid out over his temple, running down into his hair. His breathing was shallow and loud, and it was taking up way too much effort. Dean could tell from the sharp, sudden gasps, the way each breath seemed to have to tear through another painful sob before reaching his lungs. And there was nothing Dean could do to help him. He kept talking, his voice soft and reasurring, but he doubted that Sam could even hear him. If he could, he wasn't letting on.

Opium kept his eyes fixed on the road. One hand was rubbing across his nose and mouth every few seconds, as if he was about to throw up, and he had the window all the way down. He was clearly having trouble with the bloodlust. Vicky knew better than to try and talk to him; it would only break his focus. Instead, she glanced over her shoulder every few moments to look at the Winchesters, or at her watch, or at the road. Sam's rasping, agonized gasps filled the car, every time tearing a fresh hole through Dean's chest. His comforting monologue was starting to falter - his voice was trembling and halting. Sam couldn't survive much more of this. Soon he was either going to pass out - maybe for good this time - or start to convulse from the pain. And Dean knew that as soon as that happened, his whole composure would smash...

"Here," Opium said suddenly, turning left. "We're here."

Dean glanced through the window to be met with sharp white and red lights, large signs, the clear colours of ambulances in rows. His mind was barely taking any of it in. He just needed to get Sammy help, right now. Opium braked sharply directly in front of the ER and Dean began to struggle towards the back door of the car, trying desperately not to move Sam. Sam's breathing still hitched and he jerked slightly, eyes sliding upwards into his head. Vicky scrambled out of the car and ran around to help, but Opium stayed motionless, gripping the wheel in a vice-like hold.

Vicky got the door open and Dean tried to manouvere himself out. He managed to get his legs on the ground and stand, still holding Sam under the shoulders. Slowly, carefully, he began to pull Sam backwards out of the car. Sam let out a short cry, his whole body tensing sharply, his eyes squeezing shut. Dean swore loudly.

"Get help!" he spat at Vicky, who started and then made for the ER. Dean turned his gaze on Opium. "Christ, fang, help me!"

Opium gave a tiny shake of his head. "Dean... I can't..."

"You _can't?" _Dean repeated. "What the fuck does that mean!? Like Sam hasn't done enough for you?"

"I _can't!_" Opium snapped, whipping his head around. Dean caught sight of the red bloodlust shimmering in his eyes, saw the fangs protruding over his lip. Opium glared at him. "Unless you want your brother drained," the vampire snarled, "I'm staying right here."

A sudden volley of voices from behind him pulled Dean's attention away, and he turned. Two paramedics and a nurse were rushing towards him, wheeling a stretcher between them. A sudden relief flooded over him and he turned to meet them, still holding Sam around the chest. One of the paramedics dashed ahead and helped to lift Sam awkwardly out of the car and onto the stretcher. Sam's body twisted in pain, his face screwed up, his body twitching sharply.

"Its okay, Sam!" Dean called to him as the two paramedics ran with the stretcher into the ER. He made to follow them, but the nurse held him back.

"Please, I need the details of his accident, his name, his age...?"

"Sam," Dean mumbled, trying to see past her. "Sam... Elk. He fell from... a window."

"A window?" she repeated, nodding. "How many storeys up?"

"Two, maybe three, I..." Dean shook his head helplessly. How far up was a church roof? "I... I'm sorry..."

"Its alright," she said, smiling sympathetically. "Mr...?"

"Dean. I'm his... brother."

That last word felt like a betrayal. Would a real brother have sent his sibling up onto a roof in the middle of a storm to break up a fight between two bloodthirsty vampires? God, no. Dean should have been there, he should have saved him...

"Mr. Elk, we'll do everything we can for your brother," the nurse assured him, moving with him into the ER. "Please take a seat and we'll-"

"You better tell me," Dean said, his voice low and shaking. "You damn well better tell me as soon as you know anything, even if its just that he's conscious or unconscious or... or..." he pressed both hands over his face, and then looked up sharply. "He had a wound at the back of his head. Broken arm, right arm, he woke up in the car but I don't think he could hear me. You need to make sure he has no internal bleeding and-"

"Its alright, Mr. Elk," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "We'll take care of him. Please take a seat."

Dean watched her turn and walk away, still scribbling on her clipboard. He stumbled back against the wall, pulling in a deep, shuddering breath. Then, unable to keep himself composed any longer, he slid down the wall and sat on the floor, arms wrapped around his knees, head burried in his arms. And for the second time within half an hour, Dean Winchester cried and prayed and cried and prayed until he could no longer breathe.

**Okay, its one in the morning so I'm going to bed... hope you enjoyed the chapter!**

**please REVIEW!**

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	15. Backtrack

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural... I just wish I did!**

**Thank you for the reviews!**

"Well, your brother was really very lucky. From the way he was bleeding from the mouth we thought he might be bleeding internally, but it turned out that he only bit his tongue as he landed. He has a few cracked ribs and a broken arm - you'll have to be careful of those over the next few weeks - but its only really the head wound that should cause any concern. He must have hit it on a rock or suchlike, since the gash was quite deep, but there was no brain damage. He does have a bad concussion, though, and I wouldn't be surprised if he had a little memory loss when he wakes up... of course, you're aware of the fact that a blow to the head this severe and the sheer shock of the trauma to his body could put him in a coma from which he may not recover, and that gunshot wound in his shoulder didn't help much... but, we'll cross that bridge if and when we come to it. I'm really feeling very positive, Mr. Elk, your brother is young and healthy and I have high hopes that he'll make a full recovery... Now, were there any questions at all you have to ask me?"

Dr. Katlin Marshall came to a halt outside one of the many rooms in the ICU, finally peeling her brown eyes from the chart she carried in her left hand and focusing on the man who had followed her up from reception. The corridors and rooms were dark now - it was way past visiting hours and only small circular lights on the ceiling cast a dim glow for the nurses. What she saw in this eerie glare were green eyes dulled with tears gazing down at the floor, the skin around them red from crying, clothes stained with dried blood and dirt, hands hanging loosely at his sides, mouth stuck in a dejected line. Slowly, the man lifted his head and fixed her with a broken stare.

"Is this his room?" Dean Winchester croaked, his voice thick and rasping.

Dr. Marshall nodded, still trying to get over the alarming sight of him. She rarely saw visitors in such a state. She would have suggested that he should go home, maybe get some rest or at least change out of the bloodstained T-shirt, but somehow she already knew his reply. She stepped back to let him pass, and he walked to the door. It wasn't until the door had swung shut behind him that she shook herself and then continued on her way, scraping her hair back behind her ear.

Dean made his way slowly to Sam's side and looked down at his brother, fresh tears running from his eyes. Sam's face was pale, a clear plastic mask fixed over his nose and mouth, his hands arranged neatly over his stomach. His eyelashes formed smooth cresents on his cheeks and his hair splayed against the crisp white pillow. A heart monitor bleeped softly beside him. Dean reached for his hand and squeezed it, fighting to keep the sob that was rising in his chest down.

"Hey, Sam. I'm back," he said quietly. "They said you're gonna be okay. Thing is, I'm having a little trouble believing them when I have to come in and see you like... like this. So maybe you should wake up and tell me yourself, just to clinch it."

He smoothed his thumb over Sam's limp hand. He suddenly felt unbearably tired, his legs trembling beneath him. Two hours of pacing blindly around the waiting room and the drama of the last couple of days were finally taking their toll. There was a chair on the other side of the room, but he couldn't let go yet. Instead, he eased himself down onto his knees beside the bed and knelt there, the floor hard beneath him. He rested his forehead against his and Sam's entwined hands.

"Christ, Sammy," he whispered. "I thought you were dead. I was so sure. I mean you looked like... and..." His mind was moving too fast for his mouth, showing him flashes of Sam lying broken and bloody on the ground before he could finish his sentences. He shook his head. "You have to stop doing this to me, Sammy. I just can't take it anymore. I can't watch you die again. The whole point of this god-damned deal was that you would be okay..." He opened his eyes, forcing the words out. "But you're never going to be okay, are you? When I... when my deal comes due, you'll be alone. No one's gonna be there to sheild you anymore. How can I deal with that?" His emotions bubbled up once more and he shut his eyes as more tears coursed down his cheeks. His voice cracked as he spoke again. "I just wanted to save you, Sammy... Dad thought I couldn't, but I swore to myself that I would. I just wanted to save you... Sammy..." He rose up from his slouched position, gazing blearily at Sam's face. "Can you hear me, bro? Sammy, please say you can hear me."

Sam made no response. Dean let out a choking sob. Part of his brain told him that he was just tired, that was the only reason he was overreacting so much. Another part made him feel like all he wanted to do was fall and keep falling forever. He sat back against the wall, still clutching Sam's hand.

"I just wanted to save you," he mumbled. He knew Sam couldn't hear him... but he had to know. He tried again, but his voice was getting smaller. "I just wanted... Sammy... I wanted to..."

* * *

_The wind tore at Sam like the ferocious claws of a monster as he fell. He could hear himself screaming, in fact he could hear millions of voices screaming all around him... he hit the ground so hard that his head snapped backwards and darkness clouded over his vision. Blood flowed from his mouth as he gasped and choked, weakly trying to push himself over onto his back. He could feel hard, gritty rock against his skin and a strange, searing heat in his side. He needed to find Dean. Dean might be in trouble... shit, why couldn't he remember what had just happened? His whole brain felt as if it was on fire, his memory of the last few moments a writhing, shifting mass of confusion. Dimly, he heard the purr of a engine and the squeal of tyres..._

_He opened his eyes, lifting himself up onto his hands and knees as he did so. Blood dripped steadily from his lips onto the floor. He turned his head, breathing raggedlly. He was crouched on a dirt road in the middle of a desert. The sun beat down mercilessly on his body, so hot that he could almost feel his skin sizzling with each labourous thud of his heart. In the distance he could see a dark shape speeding towards him. Sam tried to take a breath but blood clogged his throat. He spat onto the floor and swallowed, spat and swallowed, tried to clear his throat enough to breathe. Suddenly the ground began to tremble and he looked up in shock to see the dark shape - a car - rushing towards him. With a huge effort he rose to his feet and launched himself to the side. He came down hard on the rocky ground clear of the road and the car sped past, lights blazing._

_Sam scrambled to his feet, staggering as his head pounded. He looked around, panicking._

_"Dean!" he yelled. His voice echoed and sang in the air around him. "DEAN! Dean, help me!"_

_"Sam."_

_He whirled around, gasping as pain flared up in his side. Dean stood behind him. No, not Dean... vampire-Dean. The vampire cocked its head and watched as Sam swayed, blood trickling down his chin._

_"Sorry, Sammy," Dean said ruefully, shaking his head. "What's dead should stay dead. No shades of grey."_

_Sam stared at him. No, Dean didn't say that. Someone _else _had said that, someone who Dean hated. "What?" he managed, speaking thickly through the blood._

_"We find something evil and we kill it. That's our job," Dean explained patiently, as if talking to a child. "Its okay, Sam. You asked me to do it anyway."_

_He pulled his gun from his belt and levelled it at Sam. Sam flinched, his mouth dropping open._

_"Wh-What?" he repeated. "Dean, please, what're you-"_

_"Sorry, Sam," another voice from behind him said. "But you're evil. Tough break but hell..."_

_Sam turned. Gordon stood behind him, holding a large machette in one hand and a rifle in the other. Sam took a step backwards and his feet caught around something heavy and limp. He stumbled and fell to the ground, hitting it hard on his injured side. He let out a yell of pain and then froze as he took in the thing he had fallen over. Dean's severred head lay on the ground beside him, mouth gaping open to reveal his fangs, eyes burning red with bloodlust. His body lay a few meters away, still twitching with reflexes. Sam let out a scream._

_"Dean! No! DEAN!"_

_"One down," Gordon said calmly, moving forwards. "One to go... come on now, Sam, don't make this harder than it has to be..."_

_Sam shut his eyes tightly - and opened them in the passengar seat of the Impala. No one was driving, and yet the car was speeding along the road... Sam yelped and lurched over to the wheel, catching at it. A hand closed over his shoulder and he twisted to see Dean sitting behind him, fangs glinting._

_"I can live forever as a monster, Sammy."_

_Sam could feel tears pricking at his eyes. "Dean, please, stop it," he whispered. "I can't dream this anymore... I want to wake up..."_

_"But," Dean said, frowning. "I thought you said you would save me."_

_"I will-"_

_Sam broke off as a bullet hit the seat beside him and turned to stare through the windscreen. The car was plummetting straight towards Lusing, who stood in the middle of the road with a gun lifted... Sam let out a harsh scream and let go of the wheel. He burried his head in his arms, curling his body right over._

_"Dean," he whimpered. "Dean... please..."_

_

* * *

_

Dean flinched awake as a hand touched his shoulder and jerked back against the wall, fear sparking through him. He was staring up into two hazel eyes. He let out a yelp and tried to scramble up but his boots slipped on the slick polished floor and he dropped back down again, gasping as pain shot up his spine.

"Hey, hey, relax!" The stranger drew back, lifting her hands. Dean had enough time to take in the nurse's uniform before she spoke again. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to surprise you. We didn't realize you were still here. You don't have to sleep on the floor there, by the way, we can bring in a camp bed for you."

Dean realized that he had done just that. He had fallen asleep where he sat, one hand still clutching Sam's. Sam's discarded hand now hung from the bed, swinging slightly. Dean rose to his feet unsteadily, reaching for it again. He placed it carefully back on the bed before turning to face the nurse, running a hand through his hair. It was considerably lighter now, the glow of dawn seeping in through the window. Dean felt for his mobile, and then remembered that he'd had to turn it off when he got to the hospital.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"Eight thirty," the nurse replied. "I was just checking on your brother. His results are looking good considering everything he's been through." She fixed her gaze on him. "What about you?"

He remembered his bruised face, the gash that was still lingering on his cheekbone. He forced a smile - all he managed was a small quirk of his lips - and nodded. The nurse didn't look at all convinced but left the subject of his rearranged face alone. She moved away to stand at the end of Sam's bed, noting down the results of the machines on her chart. Dean sighed heavily and stepped to the side of the bed, pushing his hands into his pockets. He studied Sam's face critically, pressing his lips together. His brother was still abnormally pale and sweat was standing out on his forehead, sticking strands of his hair to his skin. Dean could see the shallow, harsh rise and fall of his chest and the small shivers that ran over his body every so often.

"He doesn't look so good," Dean said, his voice sharpening with worry. "Think he might have a fever..." He reached forwards without waiting for the nurse to reply and pressed his hand against Sam's forehead. It was distinctly warm. He pushed the sweat-slicked hair back, his hand shaking slightly. "Yeah, he does..."

"Its alright, Sir," she replied calmly. "He's probably just got a slight infection. He's on antibiotics and he'll be just fine in a few hours."

Dean bit his lip. He was sure she knew what she was doing, but he couldn't help but worry. Whenever something was wrong with Sam, Dean was always the one who looked after him. Dean was the one who administered the painkillers and the antibiotics and fixed the bandages in place and kept him hydrated. When someone else was in charge, Dean didn't know what was being done to his brother. He just didn't like it. He watched his brother's eyes flicker beneath their lids.

"Do you think he'll be waking up soon?"

The nurse shrugged. "I'm sorry. Head wounds can be very unpredictable. It could be an hour, it could be a week, it could be a month. After a month we'll begin to discuss other options..."

Dean closed her off. Whenever doctors spoke that dreaded sentence, he stopped listening. There were no other options. He would wait forever if he had to. The nurse seemed to have realized that he wasn't listening because she turned to leave. Halfway to the door she stopped, looked back at him.

"Oh, someone called to ask about your brother. They wanted to speak to you, but it was after hours. A girl called Vicky, asked if you could call her back."

"Right," Dean said numbly. "Right. Thanks."

She nodded to him sympathetically and then left. Dean reached for Sam's hand once more. Calling Vicky was the last thing on his mind right now. He could call Vicky after he knew that Sam was going to be okay... but Gordon was still out there somewhere. He could hide away in this white-washed hospital all he liked, but he couldn't hide from reality. They were still in danger - all of them. He couldn't ignore that.

He stood motionless for a few moments, battling with himself. Then, with a heavy sigh, he squeezed Sam's hand.

"I'll be right back, Sammy," he muttered. "I promise. You be okay on your own?"

No answer. Dean steeled himself and then slowly drew his hand away. He turned and strode towards the door. He made his way down the corridor, into the lift, down to reception. He headed straight for the doors and ducked out of them into the parking lot, feeling for his mobile. He located it in his back pocket and turned it on. Instantly it began to beep loudly, signalling several waiting messages. He glanced over them. All were from Vicky, asking for a call or some sign from him as to what was happening. They had probably been worried. He glanced around and caught sight of the Impala parked not far away. At least they'd left him his car. He made his way over to it, dialling her number as he went.

She picked up almost at once. "Dean?"

"Hey, Vicky."

"Finally," she breathed in relief. "We've been worried sick. Listen, I'm so, so sorry we didn't stay but Opium can't bear hospitals. There's just too much blood. You must understand. And after being in the car with Sam his bloodlust was just too high to take anymore-"

"I know, its okay," he said, cutting her off. He had reached the Impala by now, and a thought hit him. "Have you guys got the keys for my car?"

"Uh..." She paused, and he heard her voice in the background. Someone answered and she returned to the phone. "Opium says to check behind the back right wheel."

Dean squatted down on his haunches and peered under the car. His keys were taped behind the wheel, just out of sight. He managed a small smile and picked them off, rising to his feet once more.

"Thanks."

"How's Sam?"

Dean wet his lips. "He's... he's better than he could have been. He's beaten up, unconscious, got a small fever but the doctor said that she thought he'd be okay."

"Oh, Dean." Her voice practically sang with sympathy, and it made Dean's stomach twist. He didn't like people pitying him. There was Sam and there was Dean, no one else got into the equation and no one else should feel that they could barge in with, 'so sorry's or 'keep your chin up's. He opened the trunk of the Impala and began sifting through it.

"Any sign from Gordon?"

"No, nothing. Opium's been looking for his scent but its hard to trace."

"Okay. I'm gonna give you the number of a friend of mine. His name's Bobby, he'll help you out with a few tips. I'd come down there but..."

"I know. Its fine, really. What was the number?"

He reeled it off. He had known it by heart since he was eight. Since Uncle Bobby became emergency contact number two. Vicky noted the number down.

"We'll call him now."

"I'll call later," Dean replied. "See you."

He hung up halfway through her 'bye.' By now he had put together a small bag containing neccessities only, and he slammed the trunk shut and locked his baby before heading back into the hospital. In the toilets he changed into new clothes and cleaned himself up a little before pulling out his mobile once more. He sent Bobby a quick text. He had to try three times before he got the words down properly.

_Hunt got sticky. Gordon. Vicky and Opium calling with details - friends. Sam's in hospital. Doesn't look good._

_Dean._

He hated passing out Bobby's number, but this counted as an emergency. He left the bathroom, grabbing a sandwich and power juice from the tiny hospital shop on his way back up to Sam's room.

Sam hadn't moved an inch since Dean had left. His hand lay in on the bed in the place where Dean had put it, strangely folorn looking now that it was no longer being held. Dean dumped his bag on the floor and dragged a chair over to the side of the bed. He sat down and took Sam's hand once more.

"I'm back," he said softly. "Feeling any better?"

Sam's eyelids twitched and his head rolled to one side. Dean watched him silently. He'd had enough experience with this to know that it was probably just Sam's unconscious body settling. It didn't mean he was waking up.

He sat back in the chair, still holding Sam's hand, and shut his aching eyes. Maybe he would try and get just a few more minutes before the doctor came in for the morning check up...

He was just beginning to drift off when a cracked, rasping voice broke the comfortable silence of the room.

"Unh... D-Dean..."

**Sorry not much happened in this chapter. Promise there will be more in the next!**

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	16. Delirium

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural... I just wish I did!**

**Reviews make my day!**

"Dean..."

Dean lurched up from the chair, sending it skidding backwards across the room. He clutched at Sam's hand, watching him desperately as his eyes fluttered. His heart leapt into his throat as Sam moaned.

"Sammy! Hey, man, you okay? Sam, can you hear me?"

Sam's brow furrowed and he rolled his head towards Dean's voice. His fingers grasped weakly at Dean's, fumbling numbly. But the words that passed through his lips were far from what Dean had been expecting.

"Please, D-Dean, I can't... c-can't dream this... anymore... pl-please..."

Dean blinked in confusion. "You're not dreaming, Sammy," he said gently. "You're awake now."

"Nuh," Sam mumbled. "Tr-Tried to s-save you... I-I'm trying, I swear..." A tear suddenly slid from the corner of his eye, trickling down his cheek. "I-I don't... think... about anythin' else... I t-try and I try... and I kn-know... s'all my fault..."

Dean stared at his brother, lost for words. What was he talking about? The deal? Jesus, he was actually crying. Dean bent closer, squeezing Sam's hand, searching for words.

"Sammy, its okay. I made that deal, not you. And I would do it again, a hundred times over. And I _know _you're trying to help, I know, okay? And its alright, because eventually we'll work something out."

That last sentence was dead on his tongue. He knew Sam had been trying to help him, and he knew that his brother was coming up with nothing. It was time for them to accept that maybe it was because there just wasn't a solution to this out there. It was time for them to realize that he was well and truly screwed to hell. But now... now just wasn't the time to bring that up. Not with Sam lying in a hospital bed. Dean reached over with his free hand and pressed the button for the nurse, keeping contact with Sam with his other.

"Sammy, man, you hear me? Everything's gonna be fine. Can you look at me, man?"

Sam's eyelids flickered open and his eyes roved over the ceiling, glazed and blank. Dean felt his forehead again and bit his lip at the heat radiating off it. Sam definately had a fever. He was probably just delerious. He groaned inwardly - he'd had enough experiences with a delerious Sam to last him a lifetime - but he couldn't help but tremble with joy at the thought that Sam was awake. He wasn't going to spend the rest of his life as a vegetable. He was going to be okay.

"Please... pl-please... c-can't take this... D-Dean, please..."

Dean's gut wrenched and he stabbed the button again. "Sammy, its okay. I'm right here, Sam, I'm right next to you."

"Dean!" Sam's eyes snapped wide, his whole body rigidly stiffening. "G-Get behind me... no... NO! GORDON, STOP!"

His fist jerked upwards and Dean caught it reflexively, flinching back slightly in surprise. He fought the failing arm back onto the bed, trying to comfort Sam grimly at the same time.

"Its okay, Sam, calm down, Gordon isn't here. Hey! Sammy, relax!"

Sam suddenly began to shake, his eyes bright with tears that began to flow down his face. A sob caught in his throat and Dean froze as his brother broke.

"Please, Dean, I can't... can't lose you, not again... not like this... p-please c-come back... D-Dean..."

"Hey, hey," he said, gripping his hand tightly. "Sammy, I'm right here! I'm not going anywhere!"

Sam blinked slowly. His shaking lessened slightly. Encouraged, Dean rubbed his arm with his free hand.

"Okay? Okay, man? You're my brother, and I'll always be here to help you get through. Just try to calm down a bit, right? Take it easy."

"D-Dean?" Sam whimpered. He blinked again, harder this time. "Where..." His voice trailed off.

"We're in hospital," Dean explained gently. "Lusing helped you go skydiving off the church roof, remember? But you're gonna be okay. You've just got a little bit of a fever, that's all."

Sam's eyes flicked from side to side, still not seeming to see much. He took a few shallow breaths before speaking again.

"Are... are you... vampire?"

"What?" Dean raised his eyebrows. "Ah, no, Sammy, I'm not a vampire. Still same old Dean. Hey," he added, reaching up to cup Sam's neck as his brother's eyes continued to wander. "Hey, you see me?"

Sam's eyes slid down and finally focussed on Dean's face. He gazed at him for a few moments. Then a smile flickered across his face and his eyes closed, his grip on Dean's hand relaxing. Dean called his name softly but he didn't respond. He hesitated, unsure of what to do, but at that moment the door opened and Dr. Marshall appeared, a nurse in tow.

"You pressed the call button. Is everything okay?"

* * *

It took Sam at least three minutes to realize that he could see the blurry form of the ceiling through his eyelashes. He blinked, doing his best to drag his eyelids open and the image grew slightly clearer. He could hear a gentle, rythmic beeping from somewhere to his left and his own breathing rasping quietly in his ears. He ran his tongue over his cracked lips and with a huge effort rolled his heavy head to one side. Hospital room, hospital machines. He had a vauge memory of being spoken to at some earlier time, being spoken to by someone he knew. He tried to shift himself upright, but a sudden pain shot through his body and he froze, gasping.

"Sam?"

He twisted his head to the other side to see Dean standing beside a window on the other side of his bed. His brother made his way over to him, touching his arm. His voice was carefully soft and measured.

"Hey, man. You okay?"

"Yeah... my back hurts... and my head."

Dean relaxed, a grin darting across his face. He reached over and placed a hand on Sam's forehead. Sam swatted weakly at him with his one good arm - the other was fixed in a cast.

"Gerroff me."

"Sorry, man," Dean replied. "Just checking. You were, ah, pretty wacked out when you woke up yesterday. You had a fever, probably from infections. But the doc says you're gonna be fine. Just take a few weeks to get you back on your feet."

"Oh..." Sam frowned. He couldn't remember waking up previously, but the drifting, hesitant memories of that night on the church roof were still clear enough. He remembered the raw terror as Lusing had hurled him to the ground, the sudden, skull-splitting agony as he was slammed into the earth... he swallowed hard. "Opium? Vicky?" he asked. "And... Gordon?"

Even his name brought a shudder of fear. Dean's eyes flickered as he noticed, but he seemed to let it go.

"Opium and Vicky are fine. I called them this morning - they've spoken to Bobby and he's going to look for a safer place for them to live from now on. Gordon's gone."

"Gone where?"

"Gone away from us," Dean replied. "He saw you take the swan-dive and I think he thought you kicked it. Look, I know it won't be long until he finds out, but it'll be long enough for us to get out of this damned city and lose him."

"Okay," Sam said slowly. "So... So we should be back on the road soon."

He tried again to sit up but again froze, hissing with pain. Dean put a hand on his shoulder, holding him down, and reached for the bed control with the other.

"Stay _still, _bitch," he muttered.

He brought the top of the bed up into a slanted upright position, allowing Sam to sit up. Sam picked at the blanket, shutting his eyes until the pain had receeded.

"Jerk," he continued finally. "But I mean it. If Gordon's still out there then we need to get moving as soon as we can."

"I know," Dean said, "But we can buy you a couple of days here to get your strength back."

He paused, and then sat down in the chair beside Sam's bed. He rubbed a hand across his mouth. Sam knew him well enough to know that there was something Dean was about to say. Something that Sam wasn't going to like much.

"Sam... before, last time you woke up... well, do you remember anything?"

Sam shook his head. Dean bit his lip.

"You'd been having some sort of nightmare. A nightmare about Gordon, and me, too. And at the end you asked me if I was a vampire."

Sam's stomach plunged. He swallowed hard, forced a weak smile. "Just a hallucination from the fever."

"See, I'm not sure if I can believe that, Sammy," Dean said, leaning forwards. "Because you kept saying, _I can't dream this anymore. _Over and over."

Sam looked down at his lap, pressing his lips together. He should have known this moment would come eventually. And hadn't he been trying to make himself talk to someone about these god-damned nightmares? Maybe this was for the best...

"Sam."

Sam met his brother's gaze. He wet his lips.

"I've... I've been having these nightmares," he said softly. "For a few weeks now. They're so vivid, like visions, but they're not... they're different. Anyway, in my dream you're about to die, whether its the Impala about to run you over or a cliff crumbling around you or... or anything. And you... you're always..."

"I'm always what?" Dean asked as Sam hesitated.

"You're always a vampire, Dean."

Sam fixed his eyes on the wall so that he wouldn't have to see his brother's expression. Dean's silence said it all anyway.

"You keep telling me that you can live forever as a monster, and asking me why I haven't saved you yet and..." Sudden, uncontrollable tears forced themselves out of his eyes and flowed down his cheeks. Sam brushed at them furiously, but he couldn't control the terrible shaking in his voice as he spoke. "I try so hard, Dean, I swear. I'm _trying _to save you, but its not working. I'm doing my best, I am, and I'm prepared to do whatever it takes but I c-can't... these dreams are killing me..."

He shut his eyes tightly. God, Dean must think him such a wuss now. A weak, idiotic coward. No matter what he did, he was always the failure. He was always the dissapointment...

Strong arms suddenly closed around him, pulling him into a feirce embrace. He sucked in a small gasp of shock. Dean was... hugging him.

"Christ, Sammy, you're gonna be the death of me one of these days," Dean said in a voice that trembled. "You put way too much into this... its _my _god-damn deal, and we'll work it out together. But you can't keep doing this to yourself! You can't keep locking yourself up and hiding from me! How the hell are we supposed to be brothers if you do that?"

Sam gripped Dean back and then released him, nodding shakily. "I know," he said. "But I thought... I mean, what if the dreams are some sort of sign? If you don't die, you can't go to hell, right? And god, Dean, I'm prepared to try anything if it'll save you-"

"But I'm not." Dean sat back, shaking his head. "I'm not going to become a monster, Sam. I mean, how would it even work? Sure it would be great to be super fast, super strong, but with the bloodlust... Sam, it just wouldn't work. You _know _it wouldn't work."

"But..."

"Sammy." Dean looked him in the eye. "We'll get out of this deal. And we'll do it our way, without the monsters and the demons and the deals. We'll do it in a way in which no one else gets hurt. Either way, we _will _make it."

Sam looked at him for a moment. Then, slowly, he nodded.

**Pretty much a fluff chapter! The next chapter will more or less be the last, mainly because I feel like this is a good place to round the story off. But if anyone wants anything else added, please do give me a heads up.**

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	17. Parting

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural... I just wish I did!**

The soft, misty light of dawn broke gently over the glossy back of the Impala where it rested at the outskirts of the city. The sky was painted with pinks and orange, lightening towards the horizon where the rays of the sun were reaching upwards to snatch at the last receeding stars. The motorway stretched out before them, a long tongue of darkness against the barren feilds. Out here beyond the roar and fumes of the city, it was easy to believe that one day there would be no more demons, no more evil. It was easy to believe that maybe, one day, everything would... would work itself out.

It was a nice thought, but one painted with a ridiculous amount of optimism.

Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly, the air misting before him in fine plumes of smoke. He settled back against the Impala, pushing his hands deep into his pockets. If he didn't move he could ignore the dull throbs of pain all over his body. He was still on painkillers, but they only took the edge off. They had checked out of the hospital an hour earlier, trying to leave town before the traffic hit and people began to remember their faces. Dean glanced down at his watch.

"They should be here soon," he murmured. "Then we can go, 'kay?"

Sam nodded. It had been a week since he had woken up in the hospital, and he hadn't had a single nightmare since. He didn't know whether it was because he had finally spoken to Dean about it, or because they were about to leave the last survivors of the vampire clan. Either way, the dreams were gone. He glanced up at the roar of an engine in time to see a small car emerge from the city and speed towards them. Sam pushed himself upright as it reached them and pulled over just behind the Impala. He lifted a hand in greeting as Opium and Vicky climbed out.

"Sam!" Vicky ran forwards and hugged him carefully. "I'm so glad you're okay."

"Thanks, Vick," Sam said, hugging her back and grinning at the thought of Dean fuming beside him. Sure enough, his brother cleared his throat loudly and Vicky stepped back ,looking slightly sheepish.

"Hi, Dean," she said, falling into place beside Opium. The vampire nodded to Sam, swallowing hard.

"Sam. Feeling better?" Sam nodded. Opium's nose twitched. "Good, 'cos you stink."

"Sorry," Sam said, smiling. "I'll try to stay upwind."

"So you guys have spoken to Bobby?" Dean asked, glancing from one to the other. "He help you?"

"Yeah," Opium said. "We're headed to Chicago tonight. Bobby's heard rumours of other vampires there who've gone cold turkey."

"Listen, Opium," Sam said hesitantly. "I'm really sorry about your brother. I mean, the way things came out between you two-"

"Don't," Opium said coldly, his gaze still steady. "We both knew it would eventually come down to this. We kept putting it off, but there was no way we could have avoided it. No matter what happens, you can never escape your destiny."

His words sent a shiver down Sam's spine and he bit his lip. People said that he, Sam, was evil and he was doing his best to prevent himself from becoming a monster. Dean had promised to help him. But Sam worried endlessly about those days that might come if Dean truly did go to hell. If he lost his brother, he had no doubt that he would never be able to survive. If Dean was taken from him, he would sink into darkness and would never be able to claw his way back... he shook himelf, trying to pay attention to what Dean was saying.

"We would go with you to check the colony out, but I think its best if we stay away from vampire nests for now, at least until Gordon is a good hundred miles away."

"Are you sure he's not tracking you now?" Vicky asked.

"For now, I think he thinks Sam's dead. Course we'd be damned lucky if he never found out, but that's never gonna happen. But we'll have time enough to get out of his sight."

Opium nodded, his silver eyes flicking between the brothers. "Well, then," he said. "I guess this is goodbye."

"Yeah." Sam smiled. "But you have our number, right? If there's anything, just call us."

"Same to you," Vicky agreed.

She stepped forwards to give Dean a short hug before backing off, lifting her hand in a short wave. Sam and Dean turned as one and slid into the Impala, its soft purr growling into life as Dean touched the ignition. As the car pulled out onto the road Sam twisted in his seat to wave out of the window. Vicky returned the gesture, Opium reaching out to wrap his arm around her shoulders, offerring them a short nod of respect.

"Thought we'd at least get a smile outta the guy," Dean muttered.

Sam grinned and sat back in his seat. His smile faded slightly as that thought crept up on him once more, the thought of being alone, the thought of Dean dead, the thought of becoming a monster, his own life spiralling out of control...

"You okay?" Dean asked, clearly trying to keep his tone neutral.

Sam forced a smile. "Fine," he said. "Where are we headed?"

Dean just shrugged. Somehow, Sam felt sure that Dean could see exactly what was in his mind, that his brother knew exactly what he had been thinking. But he didn't pursue the subject, just kept his eyes on the road. In the warm, secure hospital it had been easy to imagine that everything would be fine, like the dawn breaking over the horizon. Back in the grey, real world things were more complex than, 'I'll always be there.' In the real world, there was always an 'if'.

The silence between them stretched on.

* * *

Gordon glanced over his shoulder as his mobile began to ring. He felt in his bag which lay on the passanger seat of his car, keeping one eye on the road as he drove. His mobile tone rang on insistently.

"Coming, coming!" he muttered, scowling as his hand clawed through the bag. His fingers closed over the mobile and he dragged it out and put it to his ear. "Walker," he said.

"Gordon."

He frowned. "Kubrick," he greeted. Kubrick had called him just that morning with news of a vampire nest, one he needed help with. "I'm on my way now. You know how to arm against those fangs 'till I get there, right?"

"Its not that," Kubrick replied quietly. "I checked with the hospital like you said. The one that took in Sam Winchester after his fall."

Gordon's stomach clenched. Slowly, he pulled over and sat back in his seat. "Tell me the bastard's dead."

Kubrick paused. "He was released this morning. His brother checked him out."

Gordon sat motionless for a few seconds. Then he slammed a fist into the wheel of his car and swore loudly. Kubrick bit his lip.

"I'm sorry, Gordon-"

"No, s'my fault," Gordon muttered. "I should've finished the job properly. Should've known it was too good to be true."

"What're you going to do?"

Gordon thought for a moment. "The Winchesters will be long gone by now. I'll get to you and we'll torch that nest. Then I'll start tracking them again."

He hung up and fixed his eyes on the road, his mouth set in a firm line.

"One of these days, Sammy," he growled sourly, "Your luck is gonna damn well run out."

Then he spun the wheel and veered out into the road again, his lights quickly melting into the darkness.

**The End.**

**That's the end of this one. I always seem to have loose ends at the end of my fanfics, and if anyone wants a sequel to this one... well, you'll just have to give me some ideas for it!! :D Hope you enjoyed this story!**

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